Harassing the harasser
by ticoco
Summary: Widowmaker has distracting dreams and intruding thoughts after her skirmishes with Tracer. She has had enough of the insolent brat and intends to teach her a lesson. Or two. Three. Maybe four. Oh she's about to get it! Warning BDSM, violence and torture.
1. Unfamiliar emotions

Warning: Adult content, BDSM, torture and other weird shit. (Warning is mainly for the humor attempts)

Note: I appreciate any feedback, haven't written a fanfic in years, I don't mind if you hate it. More characters will appear.

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Purple lights illuminated two female forms in a otherwise empty stripper club. Widowmaker sat frozen her seat, Tracer swayed seductively in front of her, following the rhythm of the erotic beats pumped out by the club's speakers. Hot messy chestnut hair flowing with her motion, her pilot jacket unzipped revealing large and nude perky breasts, a cheeky smirk on her face.

"You want me don't you?" she said, running a finger down Widowmaker's cheek ending on her lips, pressing it softly against them. The French woman would have bit her finger if she could, but she had no power to move. Tracer swayed in closer, her breasts so close to her face, all too close. Widowmaker could feel herself heating up, blood rushing in her veins. (As much of a rush as you'd expect of a cold person anyway).

"You little tramp! You don't fool me, I will never succumb to your vile schemes!" Widowmaker snarled, and found she could move her head, but by doing so she rubbed her face in the smooth warm skin of Tracers breasts, - who by now had pushed all the way up into her face.

"Not very convincing, love" Tracer giggled straddling her, she wore a shamelessly short skirt and sitting down revealed a neatly trimmed patch of hair. Widowmaker was trying to ignore the waterfall that was taking place between her own legs as Tracer proceeded to grind her body on hers, in rolling soft horny motions. "This is what you want, isn't it... _Amiéle_ " She purred. Widowmaker closed her eyes shut pleading in a heavy French accent "mission first, you feel nothing, remember the mission, do not let her distract you from the-"

She felt Tracer lick her neck, following up with hot pants of breath along her neckline. "You are going to _taste_ sooo good" her voice sultry. She had cupped Widowmakers cheeks, and was about to drive her tongue into Widowmaker's mouth when she bolted up in a sitting position, gasping for breath.

Again, that NIGHTMARE! She clenched the sheets to her blue tanned chest. Widowmaker had been having these nightmares for weeks, ever since that _Tracer_ began showing up and foiling her regular missions. That happy, enthusiastic, cheery, stupid FACE irked her to no end. She eased her grip on the sheets as her hands where going white.

She slid off the bed hurling the clammy sheets on the floor, "BUTLER!" a head peeked in through the door, a short nod, and off it went. Her mansion could only have a few servants on standby at night, no matter how much she loathed waiting. New sheets swiftly covered her bed, but her nether regions still had an issue she had to address.

After a long and _relaxing_ shower she again laid in bed, exhausted and yet still frustrated. Nothing she did could get rid of the frustration. She hardly ever feels strain on her body, her body is perfectly engineered after-all. But her mind, - her mind could be corrupted! All this frustration was that little vixens doing!

Widowmaker was a great deducer, her mind never failed her, surely her dreams were telling her the truth, even as strange as they were. Now she knew what Tracer was doing on her spare time, she was a stripper! An impure harlot, strutting around showing all her... Body... To strangers! Even to her, while in her sights. This was clearly Tracers plot to make her lose focus and become vulnerable.

"I need to make that Tracer pay, I should kill her in her sleep." Twisting around in her fresh sheets. "No, she needs to suffer, I need to make that vixen pay dearly for distracting me from completing my missions... Death is too simple and painless" She reasoned, nodding to herself. "Being all cheery and incredibly fit in those tight track-pants... Yes, I will show her!"

Widowmaker stood up and walked gracefully to her closet, opening it and taking out a black rope, pulling at it to test it's tensile strength. The closet held quite a few other rather curious objects. However, she seemed pleased with her choice and a evil grin filled her otherwise emotionless face.

"Now, how does a spider catch a teeny fly?"


	2. Confusing encounter

Lena felt exhausted, she had been escorting the payload all day and everyone had been screaming at her to kill the support. Painstakingly enough for her, they re-spawned every fifteen seconds, and nobody seemed to have any compassion when practically any projectile sent her way magically caught her in the head.

Lucky for everyone involved, especially her squishy self, Angela's payload revival technology kept violent confrontations rather causality free.

She spotted a piece of cake on her table back at base. A card sat neatly beside it ' _let them eat cake'_ it read in cursive. _Was this Angela's doing? A thank for all the hard work today?_ She fluttered, happily chomping down on the sweet piece of bakery. "Delicious!" She announced loudly to herself, relishing the lovely piece. "Mmmmm, thanks love!"

Tracer yawned suddenly remembering how tired she was, throwing the card into the waste bin and stretching her sore legs, before dropping carelessly down on her bed.

She kicked off her left jogging shoe fighting to stay awake, she licked her lips, the sweet taste of cake lingering in her mouth. She made one last attempt at crawling into a comfortable sleeping position, turning onto her stomach.

Sprawled across the bed, right shoe still on, she drifted into unconsciousness.

\\\\\

Tracer awoke groggily, laying on her back, her head ached. Moving felt odd, like something kept held her back. She performed the usual twisting maneuver, a skill she had learned to unwrap from constricting sheets after a night of sleep tumbling. Nothing budged, confused she couldn't scratch the annoying itch on her nose, again she attempted rolling.

This time she found something truly restraining her, she couldn't roll and stay'd prone on her back. Twisting and turning did nothing to free her limbs, the sudden realization brought her abruptly out of her sleepy after-trance. Opening her eyes she stared into a cream-white ceiling, not the Overwatch base's grey concrete tones. Her wrists were bound behind her back, her knees and ankles were tied together, panic struck hard.

Tracer's heart pounded in her chest and her mouth felt dry. Dread filled her as she attempted to yell for help, but something cloth like was stuffed in her mouth, bound around her head and tied to a knot at the back. She was situated on a sofa, at least that much she could tell; turning her head to each side, sofa cushions on her right and furniture on her left. On her left, behind the table, past the chairs, - a door! She could see a door.

She cared little for her other surroundings, only the door. She prayed while struggling against the sturdy restraints. O _h god almighty, if there is a heaven, please hear my prayers, have mercy for all my sins and help me free._ She fought the ropes, to which her strength were no match. The ropes were not snug enough to cut off her circulation, but tightened just enough to keep her still, for all intents and purposes professionally done. Whoever tied them had done this before.

A French accent rang "nice to see you finally awake Tracer" a sleek figure stepped into the light of the doorway, her golden eyes flashed, glowing, and her smile positively evil.

 _Ohhhh shieeet!_ Tracer freaked, struggling with the ropes in wild panic, she tried to scream for help, but all that came out was muffled cries. _Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!_ She was hyperventilating, her heart stuck in her throat as she realized her anchor was gone, her nemesis had her bound and helpless. _I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, oh god I'm gonna die!_

"These ropes can hoist a 3tonne vehicle, they can hold you, little miss lewd." Widowmaker walked across the room and sat down beside her helplessly bound nemesis, wasting no time. "You see, my _Chérie_ " she said, cracking her knuckles, calmly, logically conversing "you have caused me a great deal of frustration. Causing me to fail my missions, I'm not falling for your allure." She said placing a cool hand on Tracer's freckled cheek, stroking it with a overly manicured thumb. "I'm not going to beat myself up about it... After all, its your vile tactics affecting me... " She smirked viciously, "but I am going to beat _you._ "

"Whh Mffh?" Tracer flinched at the last words that came out of her mouth, but before she could process it all, Widowmaker loosened the ropes keeping her pinned to the sofa and yanked her bound body into her lap. "I'm gonna teach you a lesson to stay out of my nightmares, you British slut!" Her French protruding as to put her Britt victim on edge.

Tracer laid belly down across Widowmakers lap and yelped as blue palm came down striking her butt. Widowmaker scoffed, displeased with the dampening of sound the girls cloth's caused. She reached for the waist edge of Tracers orange tights and pulled it down to her knees. Tracer let out a muffled scream and tried to roll off her lap "where do you think you're going?" she chuckled.

She placed a firm left hand on the squirming Britts back, keeping her still, and took a good look at her deliciously round, firm bottom... Covered in... What must be the most atrocious underwear Widowmaker had ever laid her eyes upon.

Rainbow striped panties with the slogan _love is love_ written across. She let out a silent sigh _well, there goes that fantasy_ and violently ripped them off causing Tracer to jolt and shriek, leaving her butt naked and exposed. Widowmaker smirked, _this is even better..._ clearly pleased with the result of her quick handiwork.

She slid a finger up Tracers thighs ending at her butt cheeks, making Tracer shiver. She felt embarrassed and exposed, Widowmaker was seeing her naked arse, she felt Widowmaker's flat palm running over her ample butt, it couldn't get more humiliating than this. Through the panic, Tracer wondered what the hell the blue woman was up to, but it was quickly overshadowed by the fact that she was half naked in the presence of an incredibly deadly assassin. Tracer knew she was about to die any moment, it scared her numb and trembling.

Widowmaker bit her lip, and as if testing the waters she lightly slapped Tracer's butt, watching it wave before it settled back into its firm, tempting form. Tracer swore Widowmaker was running her hand in circles feeling her up, but before she could be certain, Widowmaker's hand came down hard, spanking her several times fast and rough with sturdy powerful palms. Tracer bucked on her lap and let out muffled cries, her bottom turning rosy pink.

"You love this don't you?" Widowmaker grinned, Tracer was trying to keep her tears back, and shook her head n _o_. Again her hand came down roughly, Tracer squeaked. Widowmaker admired her work, fingerprints now bright red on Tracers perfect bottom.

"You love this don't you, Cherie?" she asked yet again, golden eyes glancing into her hazel ones. Tears were streaming down Tracers face and she slowly nodded her head _yes_ and looked down at the ground, defeated. "Very good" Widowmaker smiled "then I will reward you with some more" she laughed sadistically.

Tracers arse was bright red as Widowmaker started to count "1...2...3...4...5..." her hand coming down harshly on the petite form who was crying and calling out for anyone to save her.

"13...14...15..." Widowmaker ignored the pain in her palm, the drool running past her gritted teeth, and rejected the tingling sensations in her crotch. This was Tracers punishment, punishment for all the pent up frustration she had caused through her promiscuous strategies.

Tracer wailed and sobbed, each strike causing her to bite down on the cloth tied in her mouth. She wanted to crouch down hugging herself in a shower, it hurt so much. Widowmaker didn't stop, the older woman had no mercy on her. All Tracer could do was brace for impact, bucking her hips the little she could, and cry.

"27...28...29" This was all Widowmaker had hoped for, Tracer squirming, sobbing, wiggling in her lap, underneath her powerful grasp. Yes, this was the proper punishment for that Overwatch stripper slut.

Tracer felt dazed, tipsy, she blinked tears away and knew that the cake was not from Angela, it wasn't one of Reinhardt's delicious pastries either. She was too overwhelmed with the pain from Widowmakers palm repeatedly connecting with her butt that she fell unconscious.

Widowmaker felt Tracer body go limp, and clutched on to her hair lifting her passed out head, surveying her tear filled features, laughing. She gave her one last slap for good measure and admired the now bloody red arse, bruises fully covering her round cheeks.

She ran a finger across her buttocks one last time, smiling, before pulling Tracers orange tights back over her bum and locking her accelerator back in place.

Widowmaker smiled when she fled the Overwatch base, it was easy enough to track when you got nitwits like Tracer on the company payroll.

Who in their right mind walks plastered straight from a bar, to a strictly secret location, without even as much as a detour? Tracer, that is who.

She had dumped Tracer off, still bound and gagged at Soldier 76's desk at the Overwatch base. "Good luck explaining _that_ you slut!" she had said before bolting.

She felt quite proud of herself, she had put that little vixen in her place. From her rightful hand to her provoking bottom, she had completed the mission with utmost precision.

"This will surely cure me from those nightmares and bring my usual efficiently back to the field" she mused to herself, but her mind wandered back to Tracers struggling body, twisting and crying on her lap, she felt it again, frustration, a horrible distraction.

Cringing she made up her plan to truly make her pay... Next time.

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Tracer awoke to Angela's bright glowing face, she looked like an angel, her eyes were wider than usual though, like they'd seen...Something... _Oh bloody hell_ Tracer quickly sat up yelping at her aching bottom. Cut ropes littered around her bedside. "Hi loves... Whats the hold-up?"

Winston, Soldier 76 and Angela was standing, staring at her in awkward silence. "So..." Angela began, clearing her throat, covered by a slight blush "we found you, covered in... Curious bruises... And something in your blood. Can you remember what happened?"

Oh she remembered, oh god she remembered. How the hell did she survive that? Jezuzz Christ she couldn't tell them what happened! She got smacked and humiliated by Widowmaker! She'd be the laughing stock of the entire agency.

Hell no! The rumors about them were already bad, she would never hear the end of it. "No... I ate some cake I thought you left for me after a job well done..." She stammered, lying.

Angela couldn't help but snicker mockingly "Yes, job well done indeed... I-"

76 already had enough of the sweet talk, turning to Winston in an instant, pointing an accusing finger "I don't know who the hell can just waltz into an Overwatch base, kidnap one of our agents AND... And..." he turned his gaze to Angela.

"-And?"

Angela sighed "bound, gagged and spanked her sir..." Soldier 76 was speechless, the finger pointing to Winston slowly folding back into his fist.

"Whatever," he said shaking his head "we need to figure out who has access and resources to kidnap our agents, this instant! Next person might not... G _et lucky_ " he throws an amusing look at Lena, yes, that was dad76 in his full glory. Angela smacked him above the head with her staff. "Sexual assault is no joking matter" she frowned.

76 straightened is game, his voice gruff, grumpy. He was more cross than usual, but this was a serious matter, after-all. "Me and Angela will start an investigation immediately" to which Winston nodded.

Tracers... Wounds and scrapes were mostly healed by Angela, but she was wobbly and Winston carried her back to her quarters. As he laid her down, he laughed "I didn't know you were into this kinda thing Lena, you could've told me" he said (not)jokingly, Lena's face went red in fury "get the bloody fuck outta here you pervert!" literally throwing her accelerator in his face.

She had no patience for anyone's shit right now, she was just violated by Widowmaker. All due to her sweet tooth. Winston just barely managed to grab the cake plate Angela wanted for testing, before he got a face-full of hurt.

"You can rest now, if you remember anything you need to tell me immediately" Angela had said, tightly clenching Tracers arm, looking her into her eyes "Me." she had punctuated.

Tracer loved Angela, not because she was stupid hot, well, actually mostly cause of that, Angela could be a bitch, especially when out on missions. She has like... No chill.

Recalling recent events she quickly stood up, rushed to the door and locked it, _safe, I'm safe now..._ She stood by the door for a moment, blushing, running a hand over her butt. She yelped, still sore even after a healing session, "wow, she did a good job" she stopped herself "why did I say good?"

 _How did I even survive?_

Puzzled, sore and tired she laid down in her sleeping wear, were she drifted into confusing dreams.


	3. Horror show for one

Widowmaker awoke from another nightmare. She held a hand over her face lightly kneading her eyes, a wet hand between her legs verified her suspicions and her face formed into a frown.

The light was fading as the sun sank down below the horizon. She sat up at the rooftop, her mission was completed. She was out hunting, not anyone stationary and harmless, but someone fast and deadly.

The cheeky Brits attitude had been many agents downfall. A pretty smile, quickly turning into wicked grin, movement so fast it'd be too late. Catching people off guard, being distracting, that was Tracers game. Widowmaker would teach that misleading tail-wiggling-girl a lesson.

The Overwatch base's security was on high alert and she would not risk sneaking in once more, but Tracer needed to be punished, so here she was.

She ran her hands over the rope, recalling how feeble and cute Tracer looked bound on her lap, smiling to herself.

She grimaced, why did she think cute? This was punishment, "I have no emotions" she hissed to herself. "And Tracers a girl, get a grip!" Gagging lightly, she was never wrong. Yet her frustration only grew.

She knew they payload would pass through somewhere around here, she held her rifle steady, the air crackled loudly as she fired round upon round in the payloads general direction. "And now we wait"

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McCree was grinning at Tracer who sat on the opposite side of about everyone. "What?!" she howled "nothing, nothing, I was just using my imagination"

"Imagine my fist in your face!" her glare like daggers, Pharah propelled her rockets and lifted Tracer off the ground to avoid more friendly fire. The entire day had been like this, a mock festival.

Their party was interrupted by sniper shots nearby, making everyone flinch and cover behind Reinhardt's shield. "Go get that sniper Tracer" 76 commanded, everyone huddled together in a way too cramped space.

"Why me?" Tracer whimpers. Angela lifts an eyebrow in disbelief "because you are the sniper counter." there might be a slight fragment of sympathy to her voice, in light of recent events, but Tracer can't really tell, because her stare is piercing.

She hesitates, recalling recent traumatic events upon meeting a sniper. "Can't Pharah or Mcree go?" A resounding "NO!" from the entire team leaves Lena little choice but to obey. "What kinda stupid team setup is this anyway" she pouts, kicking the payload before she hurries off in a blue zigzag pattern.

"What's her problem? Used to be happy about everything" Pharah said, Angela let out a short sigh "probably too scared to be alone, she's been hugging the payload all day, its not like her."

Dva was giggling like a mad-girl "probably had a fight with her _girlfriend_ " group laughter ensued.

\\\\\

Tracer was walking along a rooftop, the sniper nowhere to be seen. Why her? Dangerous flanking missions were always sent her way, why can't McCree pick-up the slack? He is such a lazy sleazy bastard, but that would even have been an insult to all the proper bastards. Her eyes darted from side to side, she would be lying if she said she wasn't a tiny bit anxious lately. Getting kidnapped and tortured does that to you.

 _Craccck_ "Huh? Did I just step in gla-" she tried to utter the word, "agh... glah... hhh" she felt dazed and her vision blurred, her legs gave in to the weight of her body as she crashed to the ground. She identified a pair of high heel boots in front of her. N _o, no, nooo_ , she pleaded the moment before it all faded to black.

/

"Wake up Chérie" Widowmaker hissed at her. Tracer woke up realizing her wrists were tied together and bound to a steel beam in the ceiling. She was elevated to the point where she had to stand on her tiptoes to be slightly comfortable.

She shook her head lightly trying to capture her surroundings, she felt tipsy and sluggish. She was in a empty warehouse, concrete floor and chilly.

Widowmaker stood in-front of her. Tracer's tights and panties were gone and the remaining t-shirt covering her upper body was torn to shreds, her body covered in goosebumps from the chilly air that met her naked skin.

"Help" she screamed "oh god please somebody help me, Angela!" she struggled against the restraints, but all it did was wiggle the rope she was tied to, the suspension toppled her over and sent her tumbling, she searched desperately for the floor with her feet to regain her tiptoe-footing.

"You scream for that woman, but she is the one who sent you to me, no?" She stalked around Tracer like on a catwalk, graciously, step by step. "Maybe she even helped me" she taunted, lifting Tracers chin looking into her frightened eyes, a sinister look gazing at her. "What would they think of you now?"

Widowmaker moved in close, her bodysuit, cold and smooth touched Tracers naked form. "What would they do if they saw you like this?" she gave her victim's butt a swift slap.

Tracer blushed and looked down tearing her face away from Widowmakers grip. Her friends were already making fun of her as it was, all the things she had to endure the past week. In a way, it hurt more than the physical pain Widowmaker had afflicted her.

What hurt was the shame; the hopelessness, the humiliation of being stripped of all her worth, her most private places exposed and being treated like trash. She had a feeling of utter vulnerability, so weak, so useless. Shame beamed from Tracers entire form, head hanging low, sorrowful. "Are you ashamed my Chérie?"

Widowmaker reached over and brutally tore off the rest of her shirt, Tracer yelped as the cloth left her body, leaving only a bra. She pulled forth a leather riding crop "you didn't tell them what happened the night they found you on the desk." She slid the stiff whip along Tracers body "you were too ashamed, you slut!"

Widowmaker took a quick step to the side and swung the whip in one powerful motion, Tracer let out a scream as the leather stung her bottom.

"I'm going to teach you some modesty, for all this frustration you have caused me, wiggling your tail at strangers like that!" She outed a sadistic laugh and swung the whip once more. Tracer really screamed this time, followed by a broken cry, as the whip connected with her pussy.

"No, please no, stop" Tracer started to sob. She tried stepping away, but the suspension just made her tumble and the whip came down on her again.

"Stay still! And you will not give me orders." Widowmaker came in close and cupped Tracers left buttock with her hand, feeling her up. "no, please no, no... Don't" Tracer said weakly. "Hmmm? Don't what?" A smirk crossing Widowmakers features as she began spanking Tracers ass covering it in rosy-red palm-prints. Each blow bruising her, making her cry out and struggle against the restraints. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she only whimpered now.

"Why so quiet Chérie?" Widowmaker moved to look at her face, Tracer glanced down and blushed, Widowmaker grasped Tracers chin and made her look at her. "Look at me when I ask you a question slut!" Tracers large hazel eyes, filled to the rim with tears had her full attention, like a deer stuck in the headlights, Widowmaker almost lost it. _S-she... Is beautiful._

She pushed Tracer away roughly, who whimpered swinging miserably in her bonds. Widowmaker found herself dripping wet, tingling sensations in her inner thighs, her body pleading her, yet she sneered. "She isn't suffering enough, torment her, make these dumb distractions go away " She lowly concurred to herself.

Tracer felt the riding crop sliding across her thighs once again. There was a moment of peacefulness, an occasional pause between the beatings she had grown to appreciate.

She was abruptly brought back to the present as Widowmaker released a flurry of lashes to her thighs, mercilessly working her way upwards, leaving streaks of light red along the way. Each strike generated a wheezing sound from Tracers lips, followed by a gasp for air. Widowmaker worked her way up Tracers back, across her stomach, but stopped before the lashes reached her breasts.

A glimmer of relief filled Tracers eyes as Widowmaker dropped the crop to the ground. Pity? For her? "You don't have to do this love..." Her choice hoarse and weak from crying.

The glimmer was replaced by a flame that flickered, reflecting in her watery eyes. Widowmaker was holding a fat wax candle, the flame lit her face up from underneath giving it an ominous, evil glow, her golden eyes gleamed.

"Oh Chérie" Mocking sympathy filling her voice "if only someone cared enough to save you" she came close and unhooked Tracers bra, leaving her fully naked. Tracers perky breasts made her full of delight, much larger and firmer than she had imagined. "But you have no friends, do you?" She truly loved the look of dismay on her freckled face, she loved having such complete control over her worthless life.

Widowmaker came in close and enclosed an arm around Tracers knees, lifting her off the ground, superhuman strength clenching her legs closed. She was suspended between Widowmaker's grasp and the steel beam she was tied to, rope tearing at her wrists. "Wait, wait, what are you doing?" She struggled, kicking, to no use. Widowmaker tilted the candle over her stomach, hot wax drops splattered on her skin. Tracer squirmed, breathing heavily, the searing pain on her belly was bearable to her, but Widowmaker's affection knew no end.

She moved the candle over Tracers left breast and let the hot wax spill, Tracer screamed as Widowmaker made a line downwards, circling around her pink nipple. One large drop of hot wax landed on her nipple, Tracer gasped and started to cry again, tears rolling down her cheeks.

An irked look crossed Widowmakers features, she tightened the grip around Tracers legs, held the candle over her right breast and turned it upside down. A bulky clad of searing wax drowned Tracers sensitive breast, she shook and twisted her body with all her might, she was gargling the air she wanted to breathe, she closed her eyes shut and grit her teeth as the wax scorched her thin skin.

Widowmaker loved the look of pain on her face and the screams she was letting out, it was beautiful music to her ears. She wanted more of her...

Widowmaker let go off Tracers legs and stepped back, observing her work. Wax covered Overwatch slut hanging from her wrists, covered in pink-red stripes from head to toe, her bottom bruised red, whimpering, sobbing. Widowmakers own body was pleading her, aggressive tingling and wet heat between her legs, fluids running down her inner thighs, hunger consumed her.

Her frustration ever so powerful, gnawing at her mind "Its not enough!" She snarled at to herself. Oh yes, she'd make Tracer play another tune for her, a tune so good, she surely would be rid of this frustration.

Widowmaker bent over and pulled a large one-edged combat knife from her ankle. "Now what should we do with you? If I let you go... You might cause me harm the next time we meet" She dangled the knife suggestively in-front of Tracers eyes.

"I wont tell anyone love, I swear, cross-my-heart-hope-to-die" Tracer uttered shaking and frail.

"Die? Oh you will, but not the way you think" She twists the blade in her hand, pretending to clean her long nails. "Hoping to die is what I expect you to do... After all"

She stepped in close, Tracers shuddered as a hand grazed her lady-bits "My my, we might just have to give the slut what she craves." Tracer yanked her bonds as she felt the blunt edge of the knife connect with her pussy. "Please, have mercy" she sobs, panic taking over. "Widowmaker!"

Widowmaker entwined her legs with Tracers, clinging, hugging, squeezing on Tracers form keeping her still. She quite liked they way her call-sign rolled of the Britt's dreaded tongue, something she could have gotten used to, such a shame.

She aligned the knife vertically, scraping Tracers skin moving from her knees up her inner thighs. "No,no,no,no I'll do anything I swear please don't, oh god please don't" frightened out of her mind.

Widowmaker simply nodded, "mhm,mhm", Tracer screeched in horror as the knife passed her vagina, she convulsed and passed out from shock. Widowmaker drove the blade further, stopping at her cervix.

Well, stomach, since there was no actual penetration. She tapped the blade's flat side on Tracers belly. Best prank she'd ever pulled. "Its just a prank sis" she muttered to herself. Maybe she wasn't the right person to pull party tricks during torture sessions.

Tracer hung slack from her wrist bands as Widowmaker cut her down, she caught her collapsing body before it could hit the ground. The fall must have woken her up, tearful hazel eyes were pleading into hers golden. Widowmaker slapped Tracers face to keep herself from being lost in her eyes.

Tracer was completely drained, only her eyelids had the power to move, but they soon closed shut from the exhaustion.

\\\\\

Widowmaker had done it again, she dared to, just for the added humiliation it would cause the little slut. Sneaking into the Overwatch base had been tough, and she only barely had time to drop her off in the dining hall, which made her snicker.

This was even better than the last time, she could potentially be exposed to anyone(or everyone) at Overwatch. The thought made Widowmaker full of glee.

"Why didn't I kill her?" She sneered at herself. "She will just keep distracting me until I do..." She felt guilty for considering it, not being able to pinpoint why.

However, she reasoned that it would be too light punishment, but then there was the hunger she could not deny... The sun was rising in the horizon as Widowmaker made her way back to her mansion.


	4. Frienemys

Mei was standing in the dining hall doorway, clearing her eyes, yupp that is Tracer alright. She did her sleepy walk, grabbing her ice-tea from the fridge, on her way out she surveyed her closer. Wrists bound, stark naked, severely bruised arse, whip marks all over and breasts covered in what she could only assume was candle wax. Mei let out a sleepy yawn and went her merry way. - _Just Overwatch things._

Soldier 76 was on his way to the dining hall. He wasn't the morning bird-coffee-maker Overwatch deserved, but he was the one they needed. He made sure everyone got their fill to start another productive day of work, murder and destruction; Overwatch really got out of hand these days.

Something about them killing kittens and blowing up elderly homes. He couldn't quite recall, its all becoming a blur now that the mission reports simply state _nuisance_. They labelled pretty much everything that way.

76 was the coffee-master, that was, the incredibly few times he was on base due to his constant vigilantic shenanigans. Approaching pension age does some strange things to men of war, use Reinhardt's personality as reference. He can't go one day without fighting, most of the reasons are just made up on random, serving coffee without milk? Too bad, face-full of rocket-powered mace!

One time, it was just a boy who happened to wear a hooded sweater and looked funny at an Omnic. _Kaboom!_ To an old man pretty much any youngster look like a hoodlum gangster. _Nuisance_.

You don't even have to be good nowadays, seeing as the world goes to shit, just don't be inherently evil and you get a pass. _Any reason is a good reason_ , the motto doesn't sing well with the authorities, but they are classified as terrorists, why not just fulfill the image? "Something something human life" Winston said, "morals schmorals." 76 said.

Not that they were trying to do damage, problem is, to save some, you lose some. And they themselves had lost a lot of good peop-

Soldier 76 came to a halt in his daily vigilantist justification routine. Much like daily motivation to exercise, one needs to be reminded why he should be allowed to sleep soundly, after having to eat kittens at a mission gone awry. (Tracer&Dva ate all the field ration bars.)

Halting in the dining hall entrance. Speaking of Tracer. "What the actual fuck"

\\\\\

"You need to stop being molested and left in weird places" Soldier 76 shrugged "lucky I was the one who found you." Tracer sat up holding the blanket to keep herself covered, she ached all over and her mental state wasn't superb, but she gathered a smile anyway. "Oi, you don't get to save the heroine after the train has ran her over." Being ran over was putting it mildly, but she was alive and that was all that mattered to her.

76 Ruffled her hair jokingly "then I'd at least get some head." Tracer laughed "you are the worst."

Angela came out from behind one of the medicine cabinets "we found another drug in your blood, it seems we were wrong, the attacker is targeting you, specifically." Angela and 76 runs through a list while nodding and trading thoughts, making quick exchanges. Soldier 76 gave her a pat on the back "get well" and walked out of the medbay mumbling about an gathering of some kind.

Angela catches her attention "do you know anyone who would want to...Harm you?"

"No..." She did, she had a long list of possible perpetrators if she ever turned up dead in some dumpster. Not to mention she knew the attacker, they'd been on each others to-kill-list since always.

She couldn't tell them. After the following days she had stopped trusting her friends. To them it was all fun and games, to her, it was terrifying. It had gotten worse though, maybe this was some sort of progressive thing were Widowmaker slowly pushed her limits, saving the most gruesome last. Perhaps she'd done it before.

The shame ate at her, she couldn't help but think Widowmaker was bloody hot either. Tracer was a hormonal idiot for the most part, she consistently made bad choices based on her own girl crazy stupidity. It was one thing with girls around her, but Widowmaker? No, absolutely no, even her senseless brain knew the danger-to-reward ratio was skewed towards immediate death. Her normal slap-to-reward ratio with girls was already utterly in favor of slap.

Yet, she kinda, sorta, liked it? Tracer knew she probably had a bad case of Stockholm syndrome by now, and let the thought slide.

She was still shaking and her body was stinging, even worse was the humiliation. Trying to let what Angela and 76 had seen escape her memory-

Angela was suddenly sitting on her bedside, she jolted breaking her chain of thought. "Hey, are you okey?" Angelas voice, nice, soft and sweet. Tracer laid back down, not really of her own free will. She was sure Angela had shoved her if she hadn't, she was hovering just inches above her.

Tracer froze, she'd had enough of people invading her personal space for one day, but this was her doctor. The only person keeping her from being a mess of bruises and scars. Her blue eyes filled with compassion, contrary to her usual strict and stern attitude she'd get in the field. Angela was so close that her blonde hair collided with Tracers cheeks, way too close for it to be appropriate doctor-to-patient...

Reflexes from Tracers dead love life somehow returned from the grave and she found her palms supporting Angela's weight by the hips. "Ehh..."

Angela raised up clutching her neck frantically waving with her free hand as if realizing her mistake. "Sorry, don't get the wrong idea, I'm not... You should know" she gave another of those sweet gazes that would turn Tracer giddy if she wasn't already burning with humiliation.

"Take two of these and get some rest, I will be locking the medbay." She handed her pills, and a cup of water, doors locked and the light went out. Strange behavior from Angela, nothing like she'd seen before. Exhaustion and whatever was in those pills caught up with her, and she fell a sleep.


	5. Racism Tracism Schmeism

Warning: Humor building chapter.

\\\\\

A gathering of all the Overwatch agents took place in the dining hall across a large table.

Angela starts the opening speech "Ahem, all 18 of us heros are gathered here, excluding Tracer, Reaper, Amari and Widowmaker. May the latter three mentioned either rest in peace, or die soon, amen." Everyone in unison "amen."

Angela continues "As all of you know recent events around Tracers... Disappearances, has sparked an investigation, it seems she is the target of a series-harasser."

Junkrat chimes in to everyone's dismay "This isn't somehow related to the Tracer butt pose incident? The one who got banned for being extremely provocative."

He shifts in his seat throwing makeshift explosives out of his pockets, making everyone uncomfortable, presumably an attempt to improve his seated comfort. "Any offended parties may be looking to get even." He is always suspiciously civilized during these sort of discussions, in strong contrast to the Australians usual erratic behavior.

"No, we do not believe someone is targeting Tracer for doing her job" Soldier 76 grunts.

"Are you implying her job is to be unsightly slutty?" Junkrat is not entirely comfortable with how Overwatch runs their operations, especially their female agents uniforms.

Winston steals the word from underneath 76 and Angela "we like to phrase it as being _distracting_ " of cause that is all that perverted monkeys doing, Junkrat muttered.

76 who was already starting to run out of patience pressed the issue further. "Moving on!"

Angela held on to a clipboard with some large doodles on it, most likely handiwork compliments of Soldier 76. "We have narrowed the list of suspects down to everyone in this room. Motives and all before we draw any stupid conclusions about provocative behavior. Its never the victims fault, lets remember that"

"However, we have specific suspects among you. Together, we will figure out who is harassing the harasser. While Tracer is resting." Soldier 76 explained the situation further, including recent injures Tracer sustained.

Angela, still standing up looking at the clipboard "Our number one suspect is Hanzo, your cultures heritage of tit-bondage-porn and other incredibly strange sexual fetishes make you our prime suspect"

"That's it? I'm your main suspect because the Japanese is known for less than admirable sexual fantasies?" Hanzo not sure whether he should be puzzled or angry.

Angela scoffs "This is the newest socio-racial profiling, its always right. Also we all know you stole panties during the bubble bath at new-year" She turns the clipboard to the gathering, revealing a crudely drawn Chinese stick-figure holding a pair of panties, with _#1_ written in the corner.

"That was a one time thing! I cannot deny my Japanese blood getting the better of me." Hanzo folds his arms and nods rightfully, pondering visibility.

He lifts an arm from the fold and points an accusing finger at Genji "But what of my brother?! Genji is the one who was good with the ladies, now look at him" Genji's screen flickers from side to side scanning the situation. Only Torbjorns look really stands out, its a look of disgust Genji only saw once before on his fathers face. Warranted he only wore a pink tong during some formal social event his father arranged.

Hanzo continues "He is unquestionably angry and frustrated at the lack of a penis, therefore having a motive to punish Tracers tempting butt. He is also Japanese, it makes more sense!"

A slow clap starts at Torbjorns side of the table, Hanzo looking rather pleased with his detective work folding back into what Angela perceives as his Chinese sitting pose. Angela did not pride herself on her cultural knowledge, she'd have to admit that she's ignorant to some degree, if only to herself.

But Genji interjects, "That's not possible! I was with master Zenyatta this night, practicing meditation and discipline"

"It was the both of you!" Torbjorn shouts standing up on his chair "you both have anger related issues to the lack of penises, also the sick obsession with discipline and humility, its perfect"

Hanzo rubs his beard with one hand in a thinking, Chinese like motion, or at least Angela thought it was. "I agree, Genji is changed, and he cannot accept his prowess in bed has declined below that of a female like Tracer. Also Genji is a buttman, and Tracer has great ASSets." Torbjorn nodded in the most agreeable manner. "It makes sense"

Zenyatta who about now has had enough, chimes in "I sense great discord and sexual frustration in Hanzo" Hanzo gasps offended-ly, however highly true it was. But Zenyatta wasn't done "- I also sense that Torbjorn is short in more than one aspect of life."

 _I'll show you short, - short-circuiting you in your sleep you fuckin' tin can._ Torbjorn muttered.

Soldier 76 snickers at Zenyatta's sick burn and turns to Genji "what is your defense?"

Genji gives in to the pressure "I have an engineered penis, I am not actually sexually frustrated like my brother. My reign over the ladies still stand... Angela can confirm."

"Angela...Is this true?" 76 lifts an eyebrow. With a slight blush Angela confirms "yes," at least she got some culture in sizeable portions.

Torbjorn being furious "I never made a penis for Genji, how has this come to be?!" Angela smirks "Oh, but you did." Torbjorn fell into speculation. The only object he had made that could even be closely related to the shape of a penis was... _But there is no way such an object can be used in sexual intercourse with anything else than a very large horse. If even that._

Torbjorn lifts a questioning finger in the air "its not related to the tube cleaning object you wanted for the deep transitional tubes? I mean, that is more like a jackhammer than anything else, but-"

"That might be it" Angela smiles innocently. Torbjorn freaks, if anyone had told him he'd be making a cyborgs penis in the future he'd off himself on the spot, by principle. However, he had to admire Angela's _vitality_ , also this gave him a few engineering ideas to work on.

Dva not even looking away from her hand held game screen "What about Reinhardt? His fetish for scars is beyond-" Reinhardt stands up with a triumphant foot on table flexing in different heroic poses "Ahhh yes! Scars are reminders of glorious combat, Tracer should be PROUD to carry the mark of her enemies onto the battlefield. No reason to be humiliated by surviving horrible torture, it only makes one stronger!"

Torbjorn "nah, can't be Reinhardt." Hanzo chuckles "German bondage is overrated anyway. "

"It could be a hate crime" Pharah says, more like a question than an actual suggestion.

Winston interjected "Hate crime because Tracer is gay? That's absurd! Its more likely because of her accelerator can be mistaken for cyborg parts."

"No because you are all TRACISTS" Junkrats springs up from his chair, a shower of actual springs, screws and other scrap soon follows out of his pockets, littering everywhere.

"Waitwhat?" Pharah was confused at the wordplay, but she understood the concept, she'd very likely define herself in that category.

Junkrat with all his most civilized manners "If I'd have to take a guess, it would be Angela herself! She is the greatest tracist in this room, if anyone wants to harm Tracer, its her"

"... Go on" 76 was tapping impatiently at the table, clearly bored out of his mind, hoping for a quick conclusion to what seemed like an endless bickering contest.

Junkrat continues "We all know Tracer is a grievance to support, now this is especially true for Angela, who frequently has trouble with Tracer"

"Yes, its true, I don't like Tracer very much! But you do NOT know how it feels to have her always stick to you, like a designated target. The never ending blinking, stalking, you know she's always there, just waiting" Angela sobs and snivels "she even cups a feel when her magazines run out."

"Its true" Pharah adds "I keep mostly in the air for that exact reason. Whenever I land those filthy hands are always there, never failing, and she does cup a feel once her magazines are out" Zymmetra nods to this aswell. "She harasses all support, and people in vulnerable situations, we all have motive"

Junkrat shrugs "Maybe if you weren't hovering around making justice rain all day. Obviously you will attract some attention." He was mostly just very jealous at Pharahs explosive capabilities, if he had the same toys as her he'd be unstoppable.

"What, I'm at fault for being assaulted?!" Justice couldn't rain because she was completely without her weaponry, few such opportunities came to Junkrat, when they did he happily embraced them.

Junkrat calmly adds, gently folding his hands together "It would help greatly if you stopped being so provocative for everyone" he makes a delicate hand gesture to Angela as to pass on the word.

"Although I wonder" Angela said turning on Soldier 76 "why is it that its always YOU finding her tied, gagged and humiliated? Hmm?"

"That doesn't even merit a response" 76 grunts "Tracer could be my daughter, I'm getting old. Also me and Reap-" Angela desperately dives over the table stopping his mouth with both hands "HALT! Nobody wants to know, moving on!" She wished she never breached the subject. Silence befell the table and everyone went to their imagined happy places, but it was too late to un-know.

\\\\\

Hours go by.

"What about McCree, he is a downright criminal!" someone spouts.

Everyone turns to McCree, who leans back in his seat and puts his boots on the table "well in my day we used to tie em up in the ol' barn and spank em right. I was always good with the ladies. I mean, common', any proper criminal does a rape or two, sixteen might be close to the real number, but who is counting?"

Silence envelopes the room apart from McCree's reasoning voice "Anyways I'm a changed man, I even lost an arm to this... Good guy fight." He bites his cigar and squints his eyes at Mei, who is sitting scared covering in her chair. _You better keep your mouth shut you little piece of sh-_ McCree stared. Everyone nods and agrees in unison "yeah McCree is a good guy" "Yeah" "yeah" "that's right, yeah".

McCree stumps his cigar on the table, working on a larger pile of ash, "but you know what? There's something fishy about this perpetrator, two kidnappings and no rape? I can tell, this man does not own a penis" Realization hits the room, GASP!

McCree continues "I mean, if I had her in that situation I'd ravage her till she was outta her mind. Just thinking about it makes me wanna go into her room and do it RIGHT NOW, you know?"

Mei hides away in her winter jacket. "Who do you think would do such a thing?" Angela said having this half-understanding smile on her face. "Well, there is one, W– " McCree is interrupted.

"GENJI!" Hanzo proclaims accusingly. Torbjorn slams his fist to the table "for the last time, he got a penis so large he could possibly use it as a weapon!"

Genji folds his fingers together, starting yet another confession "Actually, I did impale someone on it during a fight. I lost my weapon and it is all rather fuzzy, but the climax was great" Torbjorn looks puzzled "climax of the fight?" Genji shrugs "sure, the climax."

Dva's interest peeking from the game screen "So you?" … "Shhhhh" Genji Holds a finger to her mouth "you don't wanna know... But you should probably wash your lips" Dva gags "EWWW" dropping her device.

Reinhardt looked amused at Torbjorn "are you defending a cyborg?" Torbjorn now resting his head on the table in shame "no, just stating the obvious, you haven't seen it".

McCree interjects "does anybody happen to know which room Tracer is laying unconscious in?" Again, nobody pays him any attention.

Hanzo turns to Genji with disgrace marking his face "how could you possibly end up using your penis in a fight?"

Genji looks at his brother "I forgot my large sword at home, and it would be a disgrace to our family if I activated my ultimate dragon technique with such a puny blade as my offhand, I had to improvise." Genji always had this silly tone, no matter how skilled he was at combat he just seemed whimsical in person, probably shadowing just exactly how dangerous he was.

Hanzo shakes his head in disbelief "you think its better for our family's honor to use your penis? Even in death you are a disappointment to me brother"

Soldier 76 now somewhere between lucid dreaming and insanity "so were are we on this thing? I could really use some ketchup"

"Its them! Its the used-panty-vending-sons-of-bitches who did it!" They didn't quite catch whoever said it, because the brothers were long gone before anyone could gather their wits to follow.

Hanzo and Genji bolting for the exit, followed by the angry mob. "Wait, none of this makes sense, does it?" Genji says, deflecting projectiles left and right as they scale the base. "I don't think they care, we're Japanese." Hanzo says just barely dodging one of Zarya's energy bombs that turns the resulting wall to molten.

Genji "It was a racial thing all along wasn't it?" …. Hanzo "Yupp!"


	6. Lovers quarrel

Nothing made sense to her, the more she tried to reason, the more confused she became. Her encounters with Widowmaker had been scary, downright horrible, not to mention the pain she endured. Closing her eyes as she were laying in bed waiting for the alarm to wake her.

She didn't want to admit it, but she liked it when Widowmaker spanked her, she felt a warm sensation pooling near her belly. Biting her lip she inhaled sharply remembering Widowmaker's palms smacking her bottom. "Wrong, this is so god damn wrong" she rolled off the bed, tumbling on the floor, but the warm feeling didn't go away.

As the alarm rung Tracer was already looking through her cabinets getting ready for another day at the Overwatch base. It had been two weeks since the last encounter with Widowmaker and things had gotten really bizarre. Not to mention how hard it had been finding underwear lately, something about the Shimada brothers embracing their cultural heritage? She had to admit it was nice seeing them getting along so well. "Where are they, god dammit I need just one."

"Finally!" Tracer found one of her pink tongs hidden away, underneath a pair of granny panties, perhaps the best Shimada deterrent.

Soon her outfit was complete, holsters with guns and all. Underwear and t shirts was what she changed, everything else she had to wash overnight. Winston was strict about the dress-code and it wasn't like she had money for extras. "Ugh, Overwatch pay is sooo shit" it was mostly just whatever Junkrat and Roadhog stole, split unequally around the team. To be fair, they are incredibly skilled thieves, or robbers, or something. She weren't exactly sure what they used to do, but it was nothing short of complete mayhem.

She blinked to the dining hall were she almost collided with Angela going through the door. "Hey there love" Angela spun around before she could pass, wrapping an arm around her neck pulling her in to a hug. "What's the hurry? Its Sunday"

Tracer took a second to process "aww rubbish! First day I'm up early." Angela smirked and let her go tapping her nose with her index finger "we should hangout sometime, its only a couple a weeks until vacation." She had already turned and walked off before Tracer could reply, waving at her.

Angela had gone from being a stone-cold bitch to her friend the past weeks. It was a weird transition, but it helped her cope with everything. She was very understanding, funny and kind. Maybe she gave her just a tad too much credit 'cause of her looks.

In all honesty Angela had become her only real friend. Soldier 76 was always out fighting, and he was more like a father figure. Also Winston had been annoyingly perverted as of lately. Maybe he always was, the accelerator is literally a push-up bra making her breasts look twice the size. "Should have guessed." she sighed.

With no briefing and missions. Tracer returned to her room changing into a more causal outfit. Dva ran by asking if she wanted join in on the cinema, "it will be fun! It's the movie I'm starring in," Dva smiled waving two tickets at her "all VIP." She winked.

Tracer eyed the tickets, she saw two, but there was no way it would just be the two of them going. Dva was always surrounded by people, she attracted attention like people contact aids through butt-sex. Tracer found that comparison fitting, not that she wanted Dva to get aids or anything, not that she was jealous... Of the popularity and her numerous friends... Or anything... But Dva had a horrible tendency to mock and bully Tracer, and if they were going in a big group she knew she would be the prime target, which would lead to more mocking. She passed. "No thanks love, got plans."

Lies.

Tracer turned to evade the disappointment marking Dva's face, like it was a blow to her, a setback. O _bviously fake, I mean, common, you could at least TRY to make it look realistic. Friggin teenage girls._ She thought, rolling her eyes. The two of them had their time in the desert, years ago. Nothing good ever came out of it, why try again? Besides she was working on her friendship with Angela and it felt really good; a friendship meant to be.

She dressed into a white button-up shirt and a denim skirt. Hiding the accelerator was useless, it stuck out like a sore thumb. Her first day out since her anxiety had started, "grab a bite somewhere nice, get home before dark, stay in public." She had it all figured out. A few feminine touches with make-up and she was off.

Along the hallway she stumbled upon a poster hung up by the Swede. Torbjorn had been around the female dorms with some sort of new business idea. She hadn't gotten into it, but it was getting popular among the girls. McCree had also found interest in it, which had made her skeptical.

Torbjorn even said he'd give her a special demonstration of some sort, he seemed really eager. She knows he loves his engineering, but its not like she has a lot of spare time.

Mei's door was closed as usual, busy with her research? She had been equally strange as the others lately. Slipping her notes and whispers about "should we tell them?" tell them what? Apparently something about McCree she didn't want to be articulate about. Mei trusted her to some degree, at least they both despised McCree.

Tracer sat down on the buss, finally she'd get to do something of her own. She fluttered, smiling from ear to ear. Like she waked from a coma, returning to her usual cheeky self. "Finally!"

\\\\\

The past weeks had gone by in a frenzy, Widowmaker was situated in a large warzone. Talon wanted something bad, some other large organization wanted something bad, and there she was, killing a man in Tunisia. Or a couple, - hundred.

Reaper came along to her rejoice, he would humor her with creative kills as she covered him from behind. The man knew how to get a job done, with style, she admired that.

There was enough to keep her mind off Tracer, she felt almost cured.

There were times at night she could begin see through her own facade. It wasn't really about Tracers punishment, but her pleasure and enjoyment that came from it. She wanted to feel her hand on Tracers rosy butt, she wanted to make her squirm.

A smirk crossed Widowmakers lips tugging the trigger on her rifle, half a kilometer away a females head goes explode-y, leaving a red mist of blood and brains. And there Reaper was, moon-walking while simultaneously shooting his shotguns effectively incapacitating the remaining soldiers. Widowmaker could swear he was dancing to some pop song.

She had placed a bet with Reaper, which she had just lost. But she couldn't care any less, they were done, and soon home.

\\\\\

When Tracer arrives at the city center its raining and she is immediately soaked. Her usual gravity defying hair hung in wet locks and her make-up ran down her cheeks. "Great" she mumbled "days already ruined, maybe I should just go home." She shivered, the rain was letting up and she stood there watching people hurry by to their destinations.

"You need to stay out, just a tiny bit, get some fresh air Lena." She reasoned to herself. She bought a cheap see-through plastic poncho at a kiosk before heading for the park.

The park was nice, green grass, trees and bushes, flagstone pathways, quiet. It was soon summer vacation, with her poncho on the cold was tolerable, and in this weather she had the park all to herself. The air felt fresh in her lungs and she found herself at peace.

"Excuse me miss" a hand fell on her shoulder, Tracer had immediately recognized the voice and twirled around whacking the hand away with all her might. She quickly back stepped and prepared to get the bloody fuck outta there. "WHAT DO YOU WANT, WHY ARE YOU STALKING ME!?"

There she was, her hands casually tucked into the pockets of her coat. "I'm not stalking you Cherié"

"Then what the hell do you call this!" Tracers pupils flared and her jaw clenched in fury. "How did you even find me in this massive place?!" She threw her arms out as to prove a point.

Widowmaker gave her a once-over, her mouth curving into a smile. A hand came out of her pocket, and for a brief second Tracer was on the way to bolt. But Widowmaker merely raised her hand to point at Tracers chest. "That."

Tracer gazed down, her now transparent shirt was clinging to her accelerator. It was illuminating her face and body in a blue telltale glow. A flush crept up Tracer's face, her pink bra even easier to spot through the wet shirt than her glowing accelerator.

"I went for a walk, and here you are." Widowmaker soothed reassuringly. Tracer found it incredibly hard to believe, she wasn't some nitwit. For a second she considered leaping at her. She seemed unarmed, but so was she, and she wasn't exactly a hand-to-hand specialist like 76 or McCree, nor did she have their strength.

She could at least settle for some answers before she had to escape. But before her brain had the chance to produce anything bright, she recalled, and her vigorous personality set ablaze "Bloody hell you were gonna stab me in the vagina with a HUGE fucking knife!" Tracer's whole face lit up, her large hazel eyes burned.

Widowmaker went poker-faced "And I didn't, like you asked, so now you owe me anything."

Tracer gapes in disbelief "I only said that because you were saying you'd stab me!"

"I never said I would, I merely gestured. You said you'd do anything" she scoffs inspecting the lustrous nails on her free hand.

Tracer wasn't sure why she was trying to argue with the arrogant woman. The cause was probably all the pent up anger she'd felt the past weeks. "That's because I thought you weren't joking about knife-raping me!"

"I wasn't"

The words stabbed her in the gut, it hurt, she was really going to do something so gruesome to her? "But you didn't?!"

"It got boring when you passed out" Widowmaker was completely unfazed by Tracers shouting.

The color drained out of Tracer's face, her voice was shrill and broken. "The only thing that limited you from literally fucking me with a knife was that I passed out before you could get to the action?!"

"This is going nowhere. You. Owe me. That is final." Widowmaker points at her then to herself, emphasizing her point. Her stance reeked of dominance, she was not budging.

Tracer's expression dulled she looked down to avoid Widowmaker's gaze, the woman intimidated her more than she'd admit. "Yeah, like I will submit to another of your sadistic sex dungeon fantasies"

Widowmaker lifts a questioning eyebrow "there is nothing sexual about it, I'm merely punishing you."

Tracer gives her a puzzled look "but you dress me naked? Also you touch me and stuff, you sure you don't play for the same team?"

Widowmaker rolls her eyes "of cause I'm not from Overwatch! What are you, twelve?"

"No, I didn't mean it like that... Not Overwatch..." She's not sure whether Widowmaker is oblivious or messing with her on purpose, its weird seeing her act like this.

Widowmaker continues her arguing point "well you said team, I'm definitely not part of Overwatch, that is your team no?"

Tracer is effectively rendered wordless "Also yes..."

She sighs holding her free hands palm up attempting to reason "There's nothing sexual about this, there is simply me, punishing you, for being..."

"Incredibly irresistibly sexy?" Tracer spouts cheekily, a suggestive smile forming on her face.

"NO! Stop it! A tramp!"

"Wait, I'm a tramp?" Tracer's brows snapped together in a questioning frown "Why do you keep calling me a slut all the time? I haven't even had sex in years. I'm literally regrowing my virginity, and you are the one doing all this sexual torture stuff"

"You are a stripper, oui?" Thick French lining her words

"Waitwhat, stripper?"

"You do all that tail wiggling to strangers"

"... I'm an harasser hero, that's what I do!"

"So you are a stripper?"

"NO! I'm supposed to draw attention from my team" Tracers folds her arms clearly offended and bothered.

"Soooo you distract them with... Your body? That's a stripper, also I saw Mccree throw dollars at you once"

"I won a bet!"

"Lies"

"Yes just like you lying about not having some kinda weird sexual fetish about me and punishment"

"I don't" Widowmaker's poker face is back, not even shedding a fragment of an expression.

"Well, you do seem to like my butt, the amount of punishment that is directly aimed at my butt, breasts and other... Stuff, is not proportional with whatever you call _punishment_ " Tracer wasn't going to have any of her shit today, frightening or not, she'd fight back.

'Like talking to a child!' Widowmaker kneads her eyes with one hand in annoyance, "You are totally making this into something inappropriate for a nemesis relationship."

"So this is a relationship now?" A triumphant smile went ear to ear across Tracers face, she knew she was pinching at Widowmaker's nerves. A habit that might have cost her a few friends, actually, almost all of them if she'd been honest. - And now, it might just cost her life.

"..."

There is a pause, in which Widowmaker's fist turns white, shaking inside her coats pocket. She was pissed, however, she was able to collect herself one more time to continue on her point. She was a reasonable woman after-all. "You are distracting me from my missions, from my sleep, I need to punish you. Now, you said you'd do anything"

"Wait, your sleep?" Tracer frowned

"You are in my nightmares"

"You mean like... Scary ones?"

"No, just distracting"

"Wet dreams?"

Widowmaker holds her hand to her chin in a thinking pose. "I do wake up wet, when you mention it"

"Exactly how kinda wet?"

She shrugs "everything, sheets, sleepwear, underwear"

"... You gotta be kidding me..." Tracer is almost speechless, her mouth dropped open. Though, she should, sorta, have guessed. But its not like she prided herself on her critical thinking abilities anyway.

"I hear its normal to sweat during nightmares" Widowmaker added, or so her doctors had told.

"Yes... Nightmares..." At this point it wasn't even fun anymore, she felt sort of bad for the blue skinned woman. She had literally been like that when she was twelve, and god it was confusing.

'BUT!' Tracer stops in her tracks "there is noooo way in hell I'm coming with you in any form of consciousness"

"Well, if you so wish I could give you a tap behind the head, but its totally super bad for you."

"No, what I'm trying to say is that I'm not willingly submitting myself to your strangely sexual torture sessions." For once her voice is calm and steady, like as if she was arguing whether they should get pizza or tacos for a Friday night out.

"You leave me no choice, I will tell everyone in Overwatch if you don't" Widowmakers voice and blackmail was akin to that of a sisters quarrel where she'd tell on Mom if Tracer didn't go along.

"That would hurt my image just as much as yours, you know what they are already saying about us? And then you come around making it even weirder." They were both in the same boat. Hell, if Widowmaker wanted to sink them both that was alright by her, she was at least openly gay. Just the thought about having to _come out,_ even falsely, to an organization like Talon, was not enjoyable.

Widowmaker holds a CD in her hand, flicking it between her fingers.

"What's that?" Tracers pupils grew large as saucers

"Our sessions"

"...You recorded it?" Appalled realization dawned on her freckled face.

"Yes, I have a lot of copies. I know a cowboy who'd love to get his hands on this." Her look like the first night, positively evil.

"Then... You sick bitch!" Thoughts raced through Tracers head. She recalled McCree's disgusting grin and all she could see is an image of him, furiously jacking off to the most humiliating moments in her life. And then possibly selling it to Winston, who'd... _NO!_ Just the thought was traumatic to her.

Tracer fiddled with the bottom of her white shirt keeping it straightened off her breasts. But her occupation was more likely to keep herself from having meet Widowmaker's gleaming gaze."What's stopping you from making more tapes?" Her voice small and defeated.

"Nothing."

It was a complete nightmare, she had her accelerator, she could run, but not hide. She didn't want anyone to see her like that, the humiliation, it stabbed her in the chest, it hurt so bad. "Sooo you will be recording again?" Tears ran down Tracer's cheeks, continuing the flow of eyeliner that darkened her face.

"Yes."

"You are terrible at this, you know that? " She was wiping the mess of tears and make-up off her misery filled face, still fiddling with her shirt.

"I just have to be better than you, the bar isn't set that high." Widowmaker said mockingly.

"...I can't even" Tracer mustered a brave smile among the dread and tears that filled her features. She would die one way or the other, by her own hand or Widowmaker's.

Widowmaker was now fully upon her, she was towering over Tracer in her high heeled boots. Her arms had somehow torn through the poncho and was underneath her shirt."Knockout gas or blunt force to the head?" She cooed into Tracer's ear, as Tracer felt Widowmaker's hands run over the small of her back.

A chance to die with her pride still intact, to the world, no matter how painful. She sobbed into Widowmaker's shoulder "gas."

Lights out.


	7. Mistress

Tracer woke up on a couch she recognized from the first night Widowmaker had kidnapped her, staring yet again into a creme white ceiling. She knew she hadn't been out for long, her clothes were damp and hair was still wet. Of course she had been stripped of her accelerator, somehow it didn't freak her out, it had gone fine before.

She was neatly packed into a blanket, she twirled and it dropped to the floor beneath her. Her hands were bound in front of her body and her feet likewise only bound at the ankles.

She had a lot of mobility sitting up at the couch "Widowmaker?" A pair of firm hands grasped her neck from behind, massaging her with a powerful grip Tracer didn't try to fight. "Oui." She said, passing the side of the sofa. She leaned a wooden object against it, out of Tracer's view and sat down beside her.

"If I didn't know any better, I would've thought it was you who was out to find me." She said pushing Tracers wet hair out of her face. "Why would I?" She pouted and blushed. She wiggled away from Widowmaker's hands and slid off the couch, but found herself seated on her knees in front of Widowmaker.

Widowmaker lifted Tracers chin, "behave, or else" her stern voice threatened. Tracer looked so pathetic on her knees, a reluctant nod came from the nervous girl. Widowmaker felt tingling pulsation and warmth slowly build in belly, oh she was going to love this.

"Be still" she commanded as she slid a black leather collar around Tracers neck and buckled it snugly. Tracer sat still, as she attached a leash to its d-ring. Widowmaker quickly yanked the leash and Tracer jolted her head up, wet hair clung to her blushed cheeks, her eyes brimmed with tears and her eyeliner ran making dark streaks on her cheeks.

Widowmaker bit her bottom lip, Tracer looked small, innocent and frightened. Nothing like the slut she always imagined in her mind and saw in her nightmares, not dirty, not lewd or depraved. Just a normal beautiful girl.

She flinched at the thought of this not being about Tracer's lewd act, but her own lustful fantasy. She shook her head, it didn't matter, she was not going to show her mercy, she is an enemy.

Widowmaker rose from the sofa, she was towering over Tracer's small form, still on her knees. "Follow me" she said starting to walk across the room, Tracer began standing up to follow, but Widowmaker's sturdy hand pushed her back down. "On your hands and knees."

Tracer sat back down on her knees and looked up, as if questioning the tall French woman. _Why?_

Widowmaker yanked the leash dragging Tracer onto all four, a hand on her hip indicating she was waiting for the girl to settle. Tracer tumbled awkwardly until she found a way to balance her weight on her bound limbs.

Widowmaker then tugged lightly and repeatedly on the leash, encouraging her to move. Tracer didn't want to, she had no interest in crawling for Widowmaker, like some kind of dog. But it was better than being beaten, and for once she weren't naked.

As humiliating as it was, Tracer shuffled along the floor, she had trouble keeping up with her bonds almost tripping every move she made. Half across Widowmaker stopped and turned to Tracer, who seated at her knees "you've been a good girl today, show me just how much you love me Cherié." She slid her left boot in front of her, gesturing at it.

Tracer paused cautiously looking up at Widowmaker, then her boot. She laughed "What are you waiting for? Kiss it" as if she was afraid Widowmaker would kick her teeth out, she slowly bent over softly placing her lips on the toe end, once.

"I said kiss it!" Widowmaker yelled, kicking Tracer in the gut, effectively knocking the air out of her and slamming her to the ground. She crawled back up shaking, again bending over on her knees as she gasped for air. She began affectionately kissing, licking, Widowmaker's boot between her wheezing breaths.

"Don't cross me, Cherié" Widowmaker couldn't see her face, but she knew it would be filled with pain. She felt throbbing and wetness in her lower abdomen, watching Tracer bow to her and abide her commands was almost too much.

She began accepting that this was definitely for her own pleasure, she just happened to love watching her only challenging opponent humiliated, and in pain.

She grabbed a old wooden chair which conveniently stood close by, and slid it close to Tracer. "Stand up and bend over" she said curtly. Tracer stood up disorganized, but Widowmaker caught on to the bewildered girl and pointed to the chair. "Straight legs, bend at waist, hands on the chair. Look forward."

Tracer was hesitant for a second, until the feeling in her gut ached and she was reminded not to keep Widowmaker waiting. She bent at the waist and kept her long legs straightened, her hands rested at the chair and she held her head up looking forward.

Widowmaker slapped her butt lightly "good girl, now wait." Tracer didn't know why she was taking her orders, apart from the threat of brutal beatings, _...yeah, okey, that is fair enough._ But worst of all, why was she... Sorta, excited? Warmth pooled along her belly and she felt hot, she wanted to grind on something, like her pillow, but didn't dare to move.

She heard Widowmaker's boots click willfully on the floor, alerting her as she approached her from behind. "You are such a good girl Tracer, I never would have thought" Tracer felt her hand stroke her bottom. Widowmaker held a wooden paddle and lifted Tracers skirt over her back revealing her pink tong. She choked and her only reaction was to bring the paddle swiftly across Tracers butt. "Owwww" she whimpered.

"What, are you crying already my Cherié?" The paddle came down again, this time with more power and Tracer closed her eyes shut at the impact, she bucked at her waist trying to soften the blow, but she didn't dare move her legs.

"Because I'm not letting you off easy." She swung again and again until her butt and thighs were thoroughly pink. Tracer recoiled and squeaked when the paddle hit her.

Widowmaker ran a hand along Tracers tong-line at the small of her back. "You are enjoying this aren't you?" She said as she sat down on the wooden chair pulling Tracer into her lap on her belly. "No, no, no" she whimpered.

"No? My Cherié, I want you to address me properly, its no, Mistress" she grabbed and squeezed Tracers cheeks "understood?" Her voice strict, Tracer could only nod looking like a complete idiot with her mouth pressed into a fish-mouth by Widowmaker.

"No what?" She asked again as her hand connected with Tracer's bottom, "no Mistress" she said.

"What?" Widowmaker said and her hand came down again. "NO MISTRESS" Tracer yelled.

Widowmaker grinned "count and answer your Mistress each time." Her sturdy hand made contact and Tracer bucked in her lap, she managed to squeak out "1, Mistress".

"Are you trying to make me mad?!" Widowmaker yanked her leash hard enough to lift Tracer up, so she could look her in the eyes. Tears ran down her face "1, Mistress" she hiccuped out between sobs, choking on the collar Widowmaker held her by.

She let go of her leash. "It needs to be louder than that" she chuckled.

Her hand came down again on Tracers rosy-red bottom and she screamed "2 MISTRESS... 3 MISTRESS... 4 MISTRESS... 5 MISTRESS..." Her ass was cherry red and slightly bruised. She sniffled and tried to shift on her lap, but Widowmaker's grip was powerful, keeping her down.

Tracer hated this, but she also loved the anticipation of what was going to happen to her, the body she almost completely lost control of, or had been forced to submit. The rush when Widowmaker's hand hit her bottom, it shot through her body, into her stomach, deep into her flesh, she loved it and then she hated it. It felt weird, it still puzzled her, and strangely enough, she wasn't scared for her life anymore, if only for a brief moment.

Widowmaker ran a hand between Tracers legs, it was warm and damp at first, as she ran her hand down her pink tong, underneath the Brits seat it was soaking wet. She smirked at her work "You little slut, are you enjoying this? You are dripping on me"

Tracer blushed, but quickly she swallows her fear and picks up the courage to say "I'm not the only one who enjoys this." Her elbow is logged between Widowmaker's legs, she was a lot cooler than a normal person, but Tracer could still feel the damp and irregular heat coming off her. Tracers cheeky smile followed quickly, heartily and beautiful.

Widowmaker got furious at the remark, Tracer saw her grit her teeth, the girls smile faded, and then her world went dark.


	8. The greater of two evils

Warning: This fanfic may go from fun to serious, to fun, a few times. Also torture. Horrible torture.

Note: School just started and I'm already stuck with so much homework I dunno what to do. I'm going to try keep updating, but its prolly going to be slower than usual.

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Soldier 76 had found Tracer yet another time, during his nightly stroll. This time she was simply dropped off at the front gate rolled into a blanket, a prettier sight he had to admit. He had left before she woke up. He had a few more vigelantic endeavours to finish before vacation. He was going on a cruise, strangely enough. She had a few bruises and a concussion, that's what Angela said, reassuring 76 she wasn't going to die anytime soon.

She had been laying awake staring at the ceiling awhile before Angela came in through the door "how are you feeling?" She had a serious look on her face, taking her vitals. "Nauseous" she had gotten off lightly, or so she believed. "Thought as much, you have a serious concussion."

"Can't you just hit me with your healing stick?" Her eyes were drowsy, she had been knocked out not asleep, and it was 2AM according to the clock on the wall. "I heal wounds sweetie, brains are not that simple." She sits down on the beside, brushes hair away from her face and smiles the kind of smile that makes Tracer melt.

"You need to tell us whoever is doing this to you" her hand rests on Tracers thigh, there's worry in her eyes. Tracer turns her head away, but it just makes it easier to see the shame on her face "I don't remember..."

"I understand its uncomfortable, but anything , just any detail will help us." Tracer avoids eye contact, her eyes flicks around at floor level trying to find something to take her attention as she fiddles with her sheets. Angela sighs "what does Amelie think about this? Isn't she worried sick?"

Tracer looks puzzled "Amelie?"

Angela raised a brow "your girlfriend?"

"I don't... Who?"

Angela's eyes lit up as recognition dawned on her face "wait, don't tell me, you aren't joking? She isn't your girlfriend is she?" Her grip on Tracer's thigh tightened.

"I don't have a girlfriend"

"Everyone assumed, I mean... Amelie is Widowmaker, don't you know? Like really? I have seen the tabloid pictures of you two." Angela tilted her head slightly, questioning Tracer.

"Yes, close encounter pictures. Fully clothed and fully armed, absolutely one-hundred-percent trying to kill each other. I don't even see how it's possible to mistake those situations for something else."

"The tabloids make it very convincing, it looks certainly looks true. Not to mention how long you disappear each time Widowmaker is close." She wanted to get to the bottom of it immediately, it was rare for her to be so wrong.

"First off. How is shooting at each other to hopefully blow the others brains out, equal to romantic dinner time and kissing? And yes, killing Widowmaker isn't easy, I've spent entire days both being chased and chasing her. Second, its you and 76 who insist I go after her." Lena lets out an exhausted sigh, like its the fifty-et time she has had to explain it.

"Now I feel bad. Your real name is Lena right? Everyone uses mine regularly, perks of being world famous."

"Lena Oxton, but I identify more as Tracer by now anyhow."

"Well Lena, you should get some rest. I'll be in tomorrow to check on you."

She gazed at the clock, 3AM. "In 4 hours?"

"Yes. Sleep tight sweetie."

Lights dimmed. Lena's body ached a tiny bit, but not all over and she didn't have the horrible shaking she got from the earlier shocks inflicted on her. The nausea part was the worst.

She spent her time pondering about her meeting with Widowmaker. How different this time had been compared to the earlier encounters. It was strange how she had submitted and taken her orders, albeit through blackmail, still willingly. Her head began hurting, she immediately stopped her wandering mind and let sleep take her in.

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Two weeks had gone by and it was vacation leave for most of Overwatch. Nobody had really paid any attention to her being kidnapped again. The only people who seemed to care was 76 and Angela.

The Shimada brothers came by to apologize for the underwear shortage. They had noticed she didn't restock herself, so they had bought her a few get well panties. Also Mei stopped by to give her a warm hug, and her gun, she had really appreciated the gesture. Especially since Mccree had been lurking in the hallways outside her door, while she was bedridden for a couple of days. Mei is such a cutie.

Lena had continued on the friendship she had started with Angela, and by now all the tension Lena felt around her was gone. It was the best thing that had happened to her since forever, the only difficult thing was not to consistently, (not) , jokingly hit on her.

Lena's first impression of Angela was that of a strict, heartless woman who only did exactly what was necessary at any given time. She had thought her a complete psychopath. How wrong she was!

Angela was truly a perfect woman. She was incredibly intelligent, she invented technology that advanced the entire medical world. She is way too beautiful, not to mention incredibly rich and famous. Other than that, she was kind, fun and understanding.

She'd be lying if she said she didn't want her, even if she was a bit more than ten years older. But she had already been sort of rejected once. Also she had immediately pushed the entire idea out of her head. Lena's life was full of women she never could approach. To her, friends are friends, and most importantly, _enemies are enemies_.

"Well, I can make it up to you now can't I? Lets have a girls-night, at my place." Angela had drawn her into a hug. She had been profusely apologizing for all the teasing about Widowmaker the past year since the recall, but Lena had forgotten all about that by now.

"At Friday then!"

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Winston said there was no staying at the base during summer due to security risks. If only there was a decent salary to the heroism work, it wouldn't be a problem. That's why Lena was happy the evening was at Angela's.

She hadn't found a cheap enough apartment for the summer, the ones in her price range were cramped and terrible. She was busy stuffing her few belongings in a travelling motel, and considered staying there. It was small and shabby, but safe and the cheapest option.

Lena's phone buzzed. She almost face-planted into the nightstand shuffling through the heap of cloths she had strategically stashed on the floor. "Hello?"

"Its Angela, remember to bring your sleeping wear. And you got the address right?"

"Yeah, I got it. And I'll just sleep in the stuff I wear, I got some comfy track shorts and a t-shirt." A red track shorts she had grown out of a long time ago, it was more like a pair of boxers by now. And the t-shirt was a size XL running halfway down her tights, a cheapskate nightgown, but she liked it. It also did a good job of hiding her accelerator, a lot of people are still resentful towards cybernetics, especially vital ones like she had on her chest. But going outside like this wouldn't be problem.

There is a light laugh on the other side of the phone "and be here at 6, I know how bad you are at keeping schedules."

"Yes. I will" Lena hung up, it irked her that people would believe such things about her. She was always on time! Almost... Sometimes. At least that time when... Nevermind.

She would have to leave about now, she skipped the make-up routine, the hotel had a few shared showers to her rejoice. Her hair was still wet, but she put on her shorts and t-shirt and she was off.

The bus was cramped, Friday evening during vacation, the entire city is going out and she had to stand in the middle isle cramped together with a full bus-load of people.

When Lena came to think of it, she hadn't been on a girls night since she was really young, but it was more sleepovers than anything. Guys nights she had been on plenty, drinking and playing cards, making vulgar jokes. One time she had joined in on a strip club. She wasn't inertly shy, just maybe a tad bit around women she fancied, not that she would admit it.

'What the?!' Lena jerked breaking her train of thought and jabbed a hand around her butt. Some douche bag had stuck a hand under her shirt and grabbed a rough handful of her ass.

Her eyes darted around looking for the culprit, but it was a lost cause. She cursed under her breath and pulled her t-shirt as far down as she could and tightened it by clenching the fabric in her hand.

'Evening off to a great start, already groped' she thought to herself walking off the bus. She triple checked nobody was following her. Not that she couldn't fight, or run, but Winston hadn't charged her accelerator in awhile. There was maybe a few blinks left before the core would go into power-saving mode, a curse and a blessing.

This was both the good side of town and one of the absolute best neighborhoods. Cops would probably question her for walking the streets around there, she didn't exactly fit in.

Lena counted the house numbers walking down the road. The housings were far apart from each other and large. The driveways were filled with luxury cars and about everyone of them had pools and gardens surrounded by tall fences.

She'd never seen anything like it before. Her entire life was spent in cramped city apartments. The most she had seen of the world was when she was still a pilot roaring over the skies. Not counting her time in Overwatch, which gave her some adventures around the world, but combat operations are not luxury.

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Lena was finally at Angela's door. It had no fence and was average size compared to the rest, still huge, but modern and beautiful. There was a huge veranda, patio thing, Lena wasn't quite sure, but it had a bar, a large pool and a Jacuzzi. It made her uneasy, she didn't feel she belonged at all.

The door opened Angela standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. "You are late." Her voice is strict and angry, but her smile is warm and makes Lena fuzzy. "The bus was cramped! Its not my fault its late" she considered telling Angela, but she didn't like receiving sympathy to begin with. In contrast to her cheeky attitude she was humble as a person... Sorta... Lies.

"I'm sure it was" she was nodding as if a child was telling her some grand story. Angela wore a loose white dress, Lena couldn't tell if it was a nightgown or just fancy attire, although thin. "Don't just stand there, come in!"

Lena almost tripped on her own clumsy feet as she walked into the hallway, skipping her joggers off along the way. She couldn't help but notice a slight difference in Angela's tone and attitude. Maybe it was just her mind playing tricks, she had gotten a little shaken at the bus.

"Your house is beautiful! How can you stand sleeping at the Overwatch base?" Lena had ran past her inspecting every corner of the house in one go. "I do my research at Overwatch, sometimes I sleep at home, most times I don't. They have military equipment I otherwise wouldn't get my hands on."

Lena turned to look at her, she knew Angela had dumbed it down to a level she could understand. Whenever she heard the different intelligent minds of Overwatch speak it was all jibber-jabber to her, just daily causal conversations would sound bizarre and cryptic. Even Junkrat was part of that bunch when it came to explosives and... Stealing... Junk... Stuff... Apparently. Case in point, she had no clue.

"I'm glad you like it" Angela smiled "take a seat in the sofa will you? Turn on the TV, I was thinking movie marathon? Find something you like." She went off into the kitchen. The sofa was long, spacious, and what Lena would consider expensive looking.

Angela had already filled the living room sofa table with popcorn, candy, chips, soda, making Lena pout, she was on a diet. Staying fit through the summer was never easy. Don't eat too much, don't eat to little, don't eat the wrong stuff, 76 had made her go through the routine a dozen times. Sadly her life depended on it, losing a fraction of a second was usually something her life couldn't afford.

Angela shouts softly from the kitchen "I'm almost done with the food. Coming in a second"

'BOOM, that's what she said!' Lena thought, reminding herself that this was a girls-night, and not a guys night.

"Lets behave..." Lena muttered to herself, selecting a fantasy adventure movie. She loved fantasy and adventures, beautiful places, exciting travel and things out of this world, like magic. What she did was a lot like magic, or so she had been told, but there was also a very dark side to it she never dwelled on.

"What did you pick?" Angela came out of the kitchen carrying a tub of ice cream, several plates and a tray of burritos. "Wow, you really didn't have to" Lena was amazed by the amount of food she had prepared for this evening. Lena would have gotten a bag of potato chips, and that would be it.

"Chillax, I had some extra" she put everything on the table filling the last bits of table surface before she dumped down in the corner of the sofa wrapping her legs up underneath her.

"I picked a fantasy adventure... Is that alright? I love adventures" Lena wasn't quite sure what Angela preferred, they had only been friendly the past month and their talks had been mostly Overwatch and mission related. Not to mention how much older she was, she tried her best not to appear childish.

"That's alright, I'm not picky" she winked at Lena. "Grab anything you'd like, and please feel at home. You look so stiff" Angela was completely at home sprawled out in her corner of the sofa.

"I don't know Angela, ice cream isn't exactly on my diet" she was staring at the ice cream tub, biting her bottom lip, it was way too tempting, completely unfair.

Angela sits up and grabs the potato chip bowl and sets it in her lap. She also hands Lena a plate with ice cream. "Don't worry so much about your looks dear, you are still young, your body will hold up just fine." Her voice is riddled with reason and elderly advice.

Lena reluctantly grabs the plate, but after the first spoon of ice cream she is hooked, shovelling in quickly, she stops abruptly at the brink of a serious brain freeze. Grimacing.

Angela laughs "calm down you, the ice cream wont run away. If you manage to finish the entire tub I still got another."

"Its really good though, thanks love!" She a smile beamed on her freckled face.

"My favourite ice cream brand." Angela blushed, her dirty secret ice cream affair. "Why are you sitting so far over there? Come here" she holds her arms out gesturing towards a hug.

Its painful, but Lena manages to tear her attention away from the screen and the delicious ice cream, she licks her lips savouring the taste and sits down by Angela in the corner. "I'm so sorry, I always get lost in the television whenever there is one nearby." Her eyes are flickering between Angela and the TV.

"Ahh, so you are that kinda girl huh. Relax" Angela grabs her t-shirt and pulls her closer "just a little closer sweetie" she almost has her pulled into a hug. Lena sits sideways between Angela's legs who she wrapped around her Lena's side. Angela has the bowl of potato chips lodged in between herself and Lena, keeping them a bowl-of-chips apart.

"Umm, okey" it was sort of intimate, but not enough to bother Lena. Guys nights were never like this, but then again guys nights were never in sleepwear on a couch eating ice cream either.

A moment later Angela seemed more busy asking questions about fantasy movies that Lena had liked and munching on the chips than anything else. Lena was just not used to girls-nights. Also Angela was being real cool about this whole thing, she could totally relax with her ice cream.

Lena nearly forgot, she released the buckles holding her accelerator in place and slid it onto the floor. 'God heavens that feels nice!'

The accelerator was horrible. Imagine the discomfort of wearing a tight bra all day. Now make it weigh a few kilos more, and stuff it ontop of your already tight bra and then lock tight enough to kill a toddler. Lena had cried herself asleep every-night from the gashes and soreness that came from the accelerator usage the first few months. Angela didn't seem to question it at all, Winston probably filled her in about it. Hopefully not the amount of boob soreness though.

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Lena tilts her head, there is a confused look on her face. "Wait, so the wizard doesn't actually do magic? And if the ring is so great why don't they use it themselves?"

"I don't know about the wizard. But its certain the ring itself is evil, they can't just use it." Angela moves her hands in front of Lena as she explains.

"Ahhhh" she didn't really expect an answer, but it helped anyway. Lena was just a lover of small talk, anything goes as long as she could keep her cheeky mouth going.

"What's up this vacation, are you going to meet your parents?"

Sadness clouded Lena's features, if only for a short moment. "I'm an orphan. I will be looking for a place to stay and then hopefully maybe a summer job of some kind" she forced a smile anyhow, no reason to be a buzz-killer.

"Only work? No fun?" Angela gave her a look of disbelief " Aren't you going to do something with your friends?"

"I'm doing something fun with you now aren't I? I don't really have any friends left, I got you and 76." She had began fiddling uneasy with her t-shirt. It was not pleasant to talk about her life's situation. She had never really been in a good place for an extended period of time, ever.

By now she had been scared they might try do a psyche evaluation of her, she knew a lot of her behaviour was heavy compensating for all the pitfalls she met in life. She just didn't want anyone to poke around too much, she isn't broken, she is just fine. Perfectly functional. And smiling. Nobody would question that. Right?

Angela had tilted her head and was examining Lena and her skittish fiddling. "So, nobody is waiting for you at home or... Expecting you?"

Lena laughs heartily "no, I'm kinda on my own. I have been since I was very young though, so no worries! If it counts I'm thinking of maybe getting a dog, but I'll have to find a proper place first." Her face lacked concern and was full of optimism and hope, she had faith in life, things get better.

"How you are always so positive and happy is beyond me." Angela places the bowl of chips back on the table and sits back up closing the chips-bowl-gap between her and Lena, hugging her.

"Soo, what about your family then?" Lena stammers lightly, she got caught off guard in her daze of ice cream, and adventure watching. Angela's soft breasts squeezed into her back, she has her arms wrapped around Lena's waist. The embrace is oddly soft and comfy warming like a perfectly dialed radiator.

The older woman sighed "I have a family, I don't see them much." Lena heard sniffles behind her 'did she just smell me?' A moment later Angela coos "Your hair smells really good Lena" running a hand through her short chest-nut hair from the side.

"Thanks, I showered before I came here. But I just borrowed a random shampoo they had..."

"You don't have to be humble about everything sweetie, your skin is really smooth and creamy too" she ran a finger down Lena's neck making her shiver. 'Am I imagining things?' She couldn't help but think it felt sort of strange, but she had seen Dva and her friends behave similarly. And Angela isn't even...

"What are you doing this summer then?" Lena chirped in an attempt at changing the weird atmosphere that had filled the room.

"Work" an effortless response. Lena was sure Angela was only partially listening to her, or not paying her any attention at all. Her hands were roaming around on Lena's belly, it felt awkward and out of place.

"Hey Angela?" Lena got even more flustered as one of Angela's hands had found its way casually tucked between her inner thighs, if Lena didn't worn shorts the woman would be touching her privates.

"Yes?" She whispers softly into Lena's ear. She isn't even a full inch away, her lips are nibbling on her ear.

Lena threads lightly "are you crushing on me?" there is hurt in the question. A betrayal of her trust and friendship.

There never came an answer. A second later Angela leaned her weight on Lena's side pushing her down into the sofa. She got pinned on her back underneath Angela, who's body was hovering just above her, face to face.

Looking straight up all Lena saw was Angela's perfect blue eyes looking back down at her. Lena loved those eyes, and the sweet look she'd give her. Just her gaze was enough to make Lena melt in a buzz of fuzzies on the inside, making her giddy.

However, right now Lena was more confused bordering to frightened. 'What's happening? Is she going to hurt me?' She had almost been fully conditioned to remaining calm when women older and stronger than her had her restrained. Widowmaker had conditioned her like this, if she made a bad move she would be punished or struck harshly.

But Angela didn't harm her, instead she leaned in and placed her lips on Lena's, it was brief and soft. Lena was hesitant at first, pulling away, puzzled, there came another kiss, then another and some soft touches along her body that made Lena heat up.

Angela was prodding her, eyes now filled with lust looking to get a grip on Lena's lips.

Lena gazed back up at the woman, trying to get her attention away from her body to her face. There was hope lingering in her hazel eyes. "I want a girlfriend" awkward, it was really awkward, it almost hurt, but she longed so bad, she couldn't help it. She felt too vulnerable like this.

It takes a moment, her lips lingering above Lena's. "I know" her answer is sultry and sensual.

Lena is woozy and uncertain, but gives Angela access to her mouth anyway. She puts her weight on Lena's body, pressing them together. Lena vaguely returns the kissing, Angela came on strong and was French-kissing her with certainty and purpose she didn't own right there and then, she was just completely bewildered.

She didn't know what befell her, she suddenly wanted Angela sooo bad. Angela had yanked her large t-shirt all the way up to her neckline and was groping her breasts. Being horny as hell Lena wrapped her legs around Angela's waist.

She didn't pay any notice as Angela lead her arms above her head, there's a low click and something tightened around her wrists. Angela was quick breaking out of Lena's locked legs, grabbing onto one of her feet and roughly pulling it straight. There's another click that snaps Lena out of her horny stupor, she tries to kick, but its futile. Angela already has her last remaining free limb in a headlock, there's one final click and Lena lays stretched out on the sofa, fully restrained and pressed into the soft sofa cushions.

Lena was experiencing a roller-coaster of emotions. She hadn't been this close to sexy-time with a woman in ages, never with a friend, and never this sudden. "You don't have to tie me up love, we could just cuddle and have sex?"

All of it just added to her confusion. She didn't know how to react anymore, she just knew what she felt and wanted in that single moment.

Angela ignored her , like it didn't matter what she would have said. "You don't really have any friends do you? No family, nobody who cares..." A corner of her mouth quirked up, she was ontop of Lena's hips leaning over her.

"Nobody who'd come looking for you..." a tone of sympathy so obviously faked it would make Widowmaker's mocking believable.

"What?" She didn't really comprehend what Angela was saying to her. At this point she was starting to get afraid, she couldn't read Angela at all. Between the ice cream, TV, talks, touches and kisses she hadn't been paying attention to Angela's intentions, she had just assumed.

She runs a finger across her cheek ending at her lips. "Desperate for love."

"I don't need love from you... I just want someone, I have you?" trying her best not to sound sad or desperate, but she knew her actions spoke louder than her words, and she had just been really easy. Right now she could recognize herself as Widowmaker saw her, a cheap slut.

"I'm not your friend Lena. And I know the drugs you had in your blood don't cause amnesia, neither does being knocked out. Short term maybe, and shock may give you trouble recalling, but you very well know who did those things to you." She pauses running her hands along Lena's lower midsection, circling, teasing her. "You are just too weak to tell" she followed up mockingly.

"If you aren't my friend, then what do you want?" Lena was full of hurt, she had been lied to. Angela was the only one keeping her above waters lately. She almost drowned in her own misery before she came along and dragged her out. She was a steady and strong pillar to lean on, full of kindness.

A smirk crossed Angela's lips "I want to hurt you." Her eyes went cold and the piercing gaze Lena had known her for returned. Lena anticipated a joking tone to her voice, or a laugh that would lighten the mood, maybe a kiss, but it never came. Instead Angela's warm tones and features faded, and her face became stern and serious.

"Angela?" Lena was on the brink of crying, her heart was pounding in her chest. "I'm part of Overwatch!" She didn't have a lot of bargaining power were she laid, but Angela couldn't be serious hurting her, could she? They were on the same team!

"Yes, but nobody likes you Lena. You are too idealistic, we aren't heroes anymore. And Winston would get less work, not to mention anyone can fill your job." She quickly tired of trying to wind-up an appropriate reason, she didn't give a flying fuck. Instead she settled for some half-truth "besides, I want to practice my healing."

The last few words hit Lena hard, filling her with dread "no, Angela please, love, I beg of you, just lay down with me and cuddle instead" she mustered one of her sweetest smiles, as if everything was going to be alright.

She quickly realized her pleading had been too little and too late. Angela had already drawn a baseball bat from underneath the couch, she had gripped it tightly with two hands. "Wait, wait nonononono" Angela swung the bat slamming it into Lena's ribcage "NO" she cried, another blow to her stomach leaving Lena gasping and coughing in her restraints.

She hadn't even put any power into it, "this is going to be fun" she muttered to herself, grinning like a psychopath.

She waited and let Lena recuperate her senses. Before she singled out one of Lena's legs holding the bat close to the knee taunting her. "I thought Amiéle would protect you at first, I would not dare to anger someone like her. But then my suspicions grew as nobody did anything about that kidnapper of yours, and then you threw away your own protective charm by telling me. Very unfortunate."

Lena tried kicking as hard as she could to break free, she bucked her hips, twisting in the bonds, but to no use. When she saw were the bat was directed she started crying desperately,"no, no Angela please, please" but she knew what was going to happen.

Angela struck her knee once, leaving a bruise, she focused and put more strength behind the next swing. The next moment Lena had started screaming out of control. "STOP ANGELA FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP!" Angela could feel the vibrations in the wooden bat as it met Lena's knee, she struck repeatedly, blow by blow turning her leg into a mess of blood and bone.

Lena screamed and screamed like she never had before, her cries and voice turned hoarse and shrill. A bone was sticking out visibility and the leg was now crooked badly inwards at the joint. She was sobbing uncontrollably and still partially screaming, but the only thing that came out of her was hoarse whimpers.

"13..." Angela brushed the sweat from her for-head leaning on the bloodied baseball bat. God how tiresome it was swinging that thing, and the damage it caused was way less then she'd imagined. She had seen Mccree break a tough man's leg straight off by just punching it, and here she was with a heavy bat, hardly able to scratch a petite girls knee. She cared little for Lena's crying, it honestly hurt her ears a tad bit more than she'd liked, she was glad that was over.

She removed the bonds on Lena's hands and legs, the girl was shaking uncontrollably and crying, but unmoving. The woman took a second to listen to the wheezing sounds that came from Lena's lungs. Did she puncture a lung? How cute.

Angela grabbed onto Lena's hair with both hands dragging her off the sofa and into the middle of the room, leaving a trail of blood behind. Lena tried to pry her hands out, but instead of letting go Angela slammed her head into the floor, once, twice. And then a punch to the back of her head leaving her tipsy, fumbling on the floor.

Lena had never experienced this much pain before, she felt nauseous because of the aches. And every time she moved her leg the immense pain shot through her like lightning, paralysing her. At that point it was not possible to scream, all she could do was gargle the air she tried to breath.

She was a girl of vitality, a survivor, she crawled halfway back up on her palms looking at the door, as if hoping she could somehow crawl out of there without Angela noticing.

Angela started conversing calmly with her, observing the bloody mess she had left behind. "You remind me a lot of one of the girls I used to run experiments on." She strikes Lena across the back, pummelling her off her palms and into the ground. Lena cried, she sobbed helplessly for what was coming, silently pleading Angela to stop. "please don't kill me..." Her voice was brittle and shallow, it hurt to speak, it hurt to breathe. It stung in her chest, burned in her throat.

"You scream just like she used to. Brings back such fond memories..." She swings again and Lena twists on the ground as the bat connects to her ribs with bone breaking power. Hiccups come between the sobs, her breathing was becoming weaker by the second. Another punctured lung.

"You have so much in common. No family, no friends, poor and naïve. Believing grand stories." Another strike to her body and Lena crawls up covering her head and hugging her functional leg, the bloody mangled leg is stretched out, too damaged and painful to move.

"What else? Just soooo easy to lure, its almost no fun. Though I wonder, why wont you tell anyone? Knowing you wont tell just makes you easier pray."

Angela takes Lena's phone out of her pockets and breaks it underneath her heel. She then takes Lena's wallet, pulls out her credit card and sits down beside her with her phone up. "What is your card pin sweetie?"

Lena doesn't answer, she's in too much pain to form proper words, not to mention out lungs and breath. Angela lacking patience and compassion, clenches one of Lena's fingers in her hands and violently snaps it backwards. Lena screams and sobs, tears flowing down her pain riddled face. "5252... Please... Stop..."

Lena was going into shock, her petite body trembled, her leg was bleeding profusely pooling blood around her form. Air was building up in her collapsed lung cavities crushing her already slow beating heart. She was dying.

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Angela emptied her bank account before she went to get her staff and the baseball bat. She took her sweet time, she knew Lena was expiring at rapid rate. She was a great doctor after all, she knew exactly what was going on inside Lena, respiratory failure, blood loss, internal bleeding, shock, concussion, possible embolisms.

She considered letting her die, she had always hated her guts, but she knew Lena's psyche and letting her die would just end her torment, also she had more in store for her. Not to mention Overwatch could use, or rather keep abusing her as they already did.

She began healing Lena, slowly, prolonging her writhing state of agony. If this was a performance for the cause-Tracer-pain Olympics board, she'd get a 10/10 from all the judges, she was sure. Lena was absolutely wrecked, Angela was ecstatic at the thought of having shattered the last pieces of her already disturbed mind.

"I'm not intending for you to die, I'm just about to show you how little people truly care about you." Angela heals her almost completely, she did say she wanted practice. She leaves the leg without wounds, but still crooked and deformed inwards at the joint, as if she was born with the damage, safe to say it looks horrendous. Lena's body still ached all over and her eyes were empty, like her soul had been torn from her body.

Before Lena could stand up and cause her harm, Angela struck her a couple of times in the stomach with the baseball bat, breaking her ribs, again. Lena tries to cover, but the bat strikes her in the head, she sees double and her head rings loudly, sending her into a dazed state.

Angela grabs her t-shirt by the neck and drags her out the door, tearing the fabric. "Silent pray for an easy get-away" she rhymed singing as she threw the accelerator out and slammed the door shut in Lena's face.

Lena who is in survival mode clenched tightly on to her accelerator holding it to her chest and blinks far, as far as it could take her. She was almost in the city when the device stopped humming and the bright blue glow dimmed drastically.

She was still on her knees hunched over the piece of metal she had in her embrace. Tears ran down her face, she thought she'd made a friend. Her only friend was the piece of metal she held in her wretched hands. It kept her safe, it kept her alive, she should never have taken it off, it was an important piece of her. She was always vulnerable without it. She locked it back in place under her torn t-shirt, careful not to put more pressure on her ribs.

Standing up was difficult, her leg wasn't painful like her stomach and ribs, but it was horribly deformed inwards at the joint, making it difficult to bend. She had to limp, her phone was gone and she was completely broke.

The t-shirt was torn badly, on the left side the neck-hole hung all the way down to her elbow, revealing her accelerator, as well as her bra, it was cold and her breasts tightened, her body was riddled in goosebumps. She puked, she threw up all the ice cream she had eaten, the nausea was horrible.

She was a stumbling corpse, rocky from the blows to her head, limping on a leg terribly deformed. White from blood-loss, her t-shirt torn, smeared in blood, dead eyes and a completely empty expression.

"Hey look at this cybernetic bitch"

"What a freak"

"Omnics killed my family you heartless piece of shit, go die."

She received several threats on her way to the police station, but it didn't really faze her, she wasn't normal, she knew that. Words couldn't hurt her in the state, they would have to kill her, but even that might have been a blessing in her sorry state.

When she entered the station she could at least try to smile, she could still function even though the light inside was broken. It wasn't unfamiliar to her.

"Wait you said doctor Angela Ziegler beat you up, broke your phone and stole your credit card?" The cop gave her a questioning look before he went out of the room, she could clearly hear though the door, although muffled "Hey guys, get a load of this bitch!" - It was a short way out of the interview room.

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She looked like a homeless girl, maybe a prostitute, he didn't doubt she'd taken heavy a beating, but no cop in their right mind would take her word for anything. To receive anything, care, help, protection, you needed money, had to be worth something. She was not.

She walked up to one of the police desks and kindly asked the man sitting there if she could borrow his land-line. He had given her a once-over, seeing a tear-filled girl with a badly deformed leg covered in blood, asking for a couple of minutes on his phone, he couldn't say no. At least she reeled some sympathy, it sort of warmed her a little.

She first called Winston, she had asked for prepay, but somehow Angela had managed to make him turn on her, somekind of made-up drug problem she supposedly had. He had of cause believed Angela before her.

He had said Mccree had a gig going this summer and that she could ask for work there. But Mccree? Hell no... Or... Just maybe once? She didn't want to be on the street either. She could try selling the few belongings she had, but it wouldn't get her far, and the leg? There was no work in three full months and her pay was already shitty.

She ran through her options, jumping from a building sure beat starving, perhaps stripping would do? She was utterly disgusted at the thought, but with the state of her leg she wouldn't get work anywhere but in a circus. Working for Mccree would probably be equal to selling herself on the street and she would kill herself long before that.

Being out of options she makes another call. The other side of the line picks up "hello?" A gruff masculine voice on the other end.

"You know Reaper very well don't you?" Lena is nervously twinning the phones cable around her finger.

"Hey Tracer! Feeling spry, we are going on a cruise" 76 was dressed in brown square patterned grandpa shorts and a blue hawaii shirt with flowers on it. He also had long white socks stuck in his sandals and the crown jewel on the master piece was a large fabulous straw-hat, also with a flower on it. Lena would have died of laughter if she had seen it, but 76 knew that was not part of her powers.

Lena took a deep breather loading her bubbly mouth. "I lost my phone popps, and I'm outta money, could you possibility ask Reaper about my girlfriends number?" Reaper knows Widowmaker, she knew that, they often worked together. She could hear a lot of chatter in the background.

76 hadn't heard Tracer call him popps since she was bleeding out in the desert, preparing to die. He knew whatever it was, it was quite serious. "You sure you are alright there Tracer?"

"I'll hopefully live if I get the number..." She didn't sound very convincing, but 76 let it slide.

"We have to talk once I get back home, hang in there, stay with Widowmaker in the meantime." He read up a number, which Lena wrote down, her head was still in a bad shape she wouldn't risk forgetting.

76 would never have left if he knew Widowmaker wasn't really her girlfriend and that she was in a bad shape and situation. But Lena didn't want to bother the old man too much, it was wearing on her pride to always have him come in and save her, she had lost the count by now. He deserved his happy time.

She swallowed and took another deep breath. This wasn't the best idea she'd ever had, but her options were few, she would be out on the street tomorrow if she had no money.

Widowmaker hadn't killed her yet, and had still shown a good amount of interest in her. No matter how twisted her affection was.

Trying to convince herself that this was a good idea would go nowhere, she just had to. She dialed, every second it rang was another soul-crushing moment in Lena's chest.

Though it might just have been partially because she had a couple of broken ribs, and she was breathing deeply like a true masochist. She had a bizarre love-hate relationship with pain. Not because she was physiologically damaged or anything. - Not at all.

Her heart jumped as someone picked up, it was silent on the other end. "Mistress?"

"Yes." That voice, she could recognize it a mile away, there was no mistaking the French accent and the empowered tone. It was Widowmaker!

Again she ran her bubbly mouth inconsistently "its Tracer, Mistress. I'm in a really really bad situation and I'm hurt, need a place to stay and I'm calling because I have none else that..." She couldn't finish selling her soul before she was cut off.

"The abandoned church, west side of town, 4pm, come unarmed and alone."

"Understo-" the line hung up before she could answer. That went great, she would die at a church, good to know.

She hung up the phone and turned to the cop. "Hey, I have no money, you don't think you could help a poor gal out, and drive me to the travelers hotel I'm staying at?" She gave the officer the largest sad puppy eyes she possibly could muster simultaneously limping on her bad leg. "Its late and scary outside..."Her large hazel eyes glossy on the verge of crying.

She was a manipulative vixen after all, if someone gave her a piece, she would take the entire cake. And she had just been given a piece.

There was a sigh and a small curse underneath his breath, something about his mother raising him properly. Lena couldn't help, but smile, she was really happy.

Wait, happy?

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End note: This was supposed to be 3 different chapters, but meh. Trying to find another decent humor plot. More Widow stuff is coming!


	9. Broken

Last Warning: Adult content

Lena was laying in the hotel bed, she had packed everything, there wasn't much, but enough to fill a garbage bag. She had thrown away her bloodied cloths and taken a long relaxing shower, it was quiet in the shared showers, none to bother her.

A few hours ago she almost died, it was a bizarre still being in one piece, the immense pain was gone. She couldn't lay properly on her side, her ribs hurt and the aching was still there. Did she really escape that easy? It had become a blur in her mind, she almost no longer remembered, at least the details. But she knew Angela did this to her.

She had never imagined Angela would ever harm her. She was right, she was naive, she very often believed the best of people. She didn't take precautions.

"Are you naïve to think Widowmaker will help?" She had been talking out loud all evening, her head was hurting, she had sustained a huge blue circle on the left side of her face, eye, chin and all.

"I want a place to stay. See? Its not that hard... I want a place to stay." Easy enough rehearsing for herself, laying safely in bed. But she knew standing infront of that woman and asking for something wouldn't be easy.

"I need a place to stay." She repeated.

"Don't shoot, I need a place to stay."

"Don't shoot, I'm unarmed, I need a place to stay" she knew that if Widowmaker really wanted to kill her, she would never get a chance to speak.

"I need a place to stay."

Widowmaker's eyes are beautiful and golden, but she has a gaze that can kill, sharp and dangerous. Her eyes are the most frightening part and she would have to look her in the eyes.

"What do you have that she wants Lena?" She hugged her cover burying her face in the soft fabric, she knew what she wanted. To hurt her.

"Its not that bad..." she unbuckled her accelerator and slid it close to the wall behind her, along with her bra.

Her head was throbbing, she could taste her thoughts. 'What will Widowmaker do with you Lena?' She clung to the cover, Widowmaker enjoyed watching her quiver and squeal.

She closed her eyes and bit her lip. 'She will tie you up again' make you crawl infront of her, obeying her like a dog.' Her heart speed up. 'She will make you do what she wants.'

'She's strong and will beat you if you don't... But if you are good, Widowmaker will call you a good girl.' giggles softly "I would be a good girl" she mumbled to herself, smiling.

'She will have you kiss her feet to praise her.' She's blushing embarrassed, rolling in her sheets. She recalled the sound of Widowmaker's voice in all its sternness and mocking, commanding her to do her bidding. "She is so tall and dominant."

'She will take your cloths off, every last bit till you are completely naked, you will be fully exposed... She can see and do whatever she likes with you.' She ran her hands down her belly, softly stroking her body, then to her hips, gripping her panties and pulling them down to her ankles, kicking them off with her feet. "She touches me..."

Laying naked underneath her cover she somehow still felt exposed, she always did feel funny being naked. 'She will touch you, running her hands along your body, your butt, places only she decides, you have no say.' She squeezed her butt, running her fingers between legs. Her body heats up, there is desire rooted within her pelvis, it tingles and throbs.

'And then, then she'll bend you over her knee and spank you, make you beg, make you scream her name."' The recollection of Widowmaker's hand on her butt sends pleasure through her body as she touches herself, making small decisive circular movements.

'she will get rougher and punish you until... Until she's satisfied' she whispered dirty words to herself. 'She will call you a slut' her fingers worked the pattern she always knew worked, like magic it brought her around, just like that, she moans into the cover "I am a slut", her fingers are soaked

'And you'll have to stay with her, and she will...' Lena is too excited "what will she do?" Her face flushed. 'Whatever she pleases' she sucks in her breath as she lets two of her fingers sink inside her, she curled them rhythmically pumping her g-spot. Along with her circular pattern.

'She will put you on your back and lay down between your legs' she smiles and her hearth begins to pound harder. She's sooo close, wishing Widowmaker could grab her breasts. Or take over her control entirely. 'she would eat you out'

"Please eat me" she pleads, her body is tensing and starting to tremble. Her breath becomes erratic, her heart is pounding. She moans. Her legs tensed, her toes curled and she spasmed as she came. Her body rolled through as her pussy tightened and clenched on her fingers, moaning "Widowmaker!"

Sort of exhausted, she shuddered with delight. It was a brief moment in heaven, as it was suddenly overshadowed with shame. Holy shit what the hell did she do?! Its alright, its alright, its just a fantasy, just a fantasy... She twirls in the cover, catching her breath. 'Oh my god, you got the hots for Widowmaker!'

She spoke to herself again, like she had gone mad. "Shut it! Let me have this, just let me have this! Its so little, I ask for so little, just a short moment in a happy place. Let me have peace in my own bloody head." She hated the shame she so often felt for terrible romance fantasy's, telling herself it was okey had gotten her through a lot. This was different though, never like this.

"Its not your fault you are like this." She mumbled into her pillow. 'I'm just teasing you...'

But it wouldn't really be like that would it? She recalled the talk they had, how oblivious Widowmaker had been. Perhaps she was just confused, after being emotionless for so long? She whispered to herself. "She's just twisted. She feels the need to cause you pain and humiliation, but its not inherently evil, not like Angela..."

'Widowmaker is an enemy Lena, you must kill her when you get the chance...'

"Then again, Angela saves lives for a living, and Widowmaker murders people for a living."

WHY does she consistently get involved with incredibly beautiful and totally unapproachable women? Not to mention their flaws are equally as great as their beauty. Scrap that, much greater.

Her hormones were going to get her killed. What would really Widowmaker ask of her? Nothing like in her fantasy she was sure. And even if, Widowmaker was a murderer and an enemy.

But is she even apart of Overwatch anymore? She would have to talk with the entire crew, come clean about everything, not sure if that would even workout.

Lena reminded herself that she wasn't a great tactical mind, thinking got her nowhere, she would just ask for what she needed. "I need a place to stay." She repeated. She looked terrible, her leg was done for and her face was 1/3 blue. 'You look like something the cat dragged in.'

She had to be out of the hotel by 12:00 at noon. Four hours to limp her way to the church, if she was alright at walking it wouldn't take more than two, and then? Wait and hope Widowmaker hadn't gotten bored of her yet.

She broke down and cried, tears running down her freckled and bruised face. Right now she just wanted to live, she didn't care for Overwatch. She didn't want to die like this, what Angela said was true, if she died now, nobody would notice. A week and a few questions, and then she would be forgotten. She never realized just how little she mattered.

She was sobbing as she stumbled back on her feet, she was wobbly, it would take time to get used to her disability, but she could at least bend it decently now. She headed for another shower, faking a smile to herself passing a mirror. A wicked face smiled back at her "its going to be alright Lena, _we_ are going to be fine."

She had to be out in two hours.


	10. A deal with the devil

Note: Thanks for the reviews everyone, really appreciated! Any opinions(good/bad/neutral) are always welcome, for all chapters. (This is sorta a filler/building chapter, might be boring? I hope its not.)

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Lena was at the church with her garbage bag, she had everything she owned in there. Before the recall she was backpacking, she liked to call herself an adventurer, but in all honesty it was a very spartan life.

Paying her meals with work, walking from shelter to shelter. Sure, she saw some beautiful things in her travels, but she also starved, and the cold often bit deep. By now the money she had been using sparsely was all gone, she had saved about everything she earned the past year, hoping to maybe settle, that hope was gone together with Angela.

And thus she was here, not able to travel, not fit for work, a stomach already rumbling. Her accelerator was still dimly lit, she had borrowed a phone and asked if Winston would be a dear and charge it for her.

To her rejoice he agreed, but he had joined Mei's expedition to the arctic and it would be weeks, possibly a month before he was back. "Don't worry Tracer, the core itself can be in power saving for years, you will not experience phasing out of time" he had said. She knew that.

It felt like she had been sitting there for a few minutes, one hour already? She stood up as a limousine pulled up, the driver stepped out and opened the passenger door and there she was. Talk about grand entry.

She would bet that's about the only thing Widowmaker did in her sparetime, look grand. She seems like the type, always keeping her head high, like some-kind of noble woman. Unless she was giving her that deadly glare, she would lower her chin just for that, yet still painfully intense and determined.

She was dressed in that coat again, presumably hiding the extremely sexual catsuit, now that she came to think of it, maybe this was some kind of fetish Widowmaker had all along. Or maybe talon, just like Overwatch, had perverted leaders that imposed specific uniforms. Tracer was wearing hers currently, but she liked the tig-

Her train of thought was cut short.

A whirling sound in the air and a click, the sound of boots hitting the pavement infront of her. Widowmaker had leaped a good fifty meters in a split second with that grapple, she was highly mobile, unlike her current self.

Tracer used to fight that, they chased each other on roof tops and in buildings, motions so inhumanely fast. Being a normal person, a normal person with a disability, it felt so far off, like it was unreal she once was capable of such feats.

Widowmaker was there, standing tall like a queen infront of an unworthy peasant, her hands tucked into her coat. "You look good Cherié" there was a mocking tone to her words, but her expression was blank.

She had forgotten how tall Widowmaker was, one and a half head taller than her while in her boots. Tracer had to look up, trying to seal away her fear, it wasn't irrational fear, but useless given her situation. Collecting a tiny bit of courage "I need a place to stay" her stomach rumbled "and food..."

Widowmaker scoffs "why would I give you that?" Almost like Tracer had insulted her.

"I know you wanted something from me last time we talked." Her own words were yielding, not so surprising as her entire form was wavering, beaten black and blue.

"How so?" She shrugged with disinterest "I could just kidnap you again if I wanted, you are easy to catch."

"Then I won't cooperate with you. You said you wanted me to uphold that I would do anything." Tracer shifted her weight to her good leg and tried to hide the crooked one behind her other. It clearly bothered her.

"What if I say I'll show Overwatch the cd?"

"Do I look like I'm in a situation were I would care what people think?" Tracer holds her hands out gesturing at her leg as to prove her point.

Widowmaker gave her a once over, she had seen it the moment she stepped out of the limousine. The petite girl was in bad shape, her face bruised black and blue, and a bent leg she had to stand awkwardly at. She wondered if she had more bruises underneath her cloths, for documentation purposes of course. "So I can sell it?" Teasing Tracer was time well spent.

"If that is your thing..." Tracer couldn't help but feel pressured and extremely uncomfortable with the entire ordeal. But there was only a single shot at this, if she gave in she would simply be beaten and left for dead again.

"There is 4 movie titles to consider. Oh, and your name will of course be branded on the cover. Actress _Tracer,_ but it will be much better once you tell me what your real name is." She lifts Tracers chin up with a hand, gazing into her eyes. "Which is?"

"Lena, Lena Oxton..." 'Shut up! Just shut up! Stop letting her intimidate you Lena.' She limps a step away, breaking Widowmakers grasp. There was a sudden burst of anger and determination in her eyes. "And then it will be like all the other times, I will kick and bite if you don't tie me good enough."

For a brief moment an upset look crossed Widowmakers face, as if she had just dropped and broken a mug she wanted. She followed after Tracer's step "Lena? Its a beautiful name" she cooed as if to reassure her she was not stepping in to harm her.

She quickly added "I see you are in a bad shape" one of her long arms had wrapped itself around Lena's lower back and pulled her in, too close for her own comfort. "How are you going to do anything for me like this?"

Tracer yelped, she was pressuring on her ribs "you are hurting me!" Widowmaker loosened her grip and lowered it to her bottom, the grip was loose around her body, but locked thoroughly. Lena couldn't step out of it, "this is me right now, I want a place to stay and food."

Widowmaker was amused by the squeamish girl. It was easy to tell the girl wasn't steadfast, she could push her. "And you will give me?"

"Almost anything, just don't break my bones or kill me" it was really a horrible idea to begin with, she could never trust Widowmaker.

Widowmakers poker face is on "Almost? But I have no use for you like this, you hurt from a simple touch." she pushes Tracer away and turns partially prepared to walk, observing her in the corner of her eye.

"Okey..." Tracers entire look screamed depressed as she backed off, it was worth a try, she did look pretty bad.

Widowmaker turned to her again. Her hands on her back leaning over the short girl, like she was expecting Tracer's downfall all along, but not caring enough to hide it. "You really need this, don't you?" There was a glare in Widowmaker's eyes Tracer didn't quite like.

"Yes" Tracer avoided her gaze by looking away, so obvious it almost hurt Widowmaker's keen observational senses. "How about a deal?" A triumphant smirk smeared on the tall woman's face.

"What kind of deal?" She didn't like her previous deal, or blackmail, that was definitely blackmail.

"You will get food and a place to stay" Widowmaker kept reasoning, "but in return you will have to do exactly as I say, anything and everything. Also I may harm you, or kill you" she inspects her long lustrous nails "whatever."

Tracer frowned "that's not a deal, that's you telling me you will use me and then kill me when you are done." She held on to her garbage bag in a defensive pose backing away.

Widowmaker draws a deep breath if only to exhale like a normal upset person. "Look, I will pay to have your injuries corrected. You work for me until the end of summer and then you are free, or dead, I can't promise, I'm not your friend" Widowmaker was honest, she didn't know how she could keep her nemesis around without eventually killing her. But with a discharged accelerator and a mutilated leg there was little harm Tracer could do. "I will do my best not to kill you."

Her eyes sparked ignoring about everything else Widowmaker said. "You will fix my leg?" she asked ecstatically, jumping carelessly as high as she could, tumbling as she landed, Widowmaker grasped her arm to keep her from falling."Yes."

"Wait, what is your interest in me?"

Her hands tucked casually into her pockets, she was calm as ever "don't get me wrong, I don't feel emotions like you do."

"Sure you don't" Tracer snickered. She knew Widowmaker felt next to nothing, or so she was told, it stood in deep contrast to her own experiences. What little she actually knew about her was out of the necessity to have an advantage when trying to 'kill her'.

Widowmaker shook her head pretending she didn't hear Tracers's snide remark. She gestured Tracer to follow as she turned her really long hair blew in the wind. Tracer had never paid much attention to her hair. She wondered what she used to keep it so full and radiant.

Tracer followed Widowmaker's heels in tow with her bag. She was fascinated by the long purple ponytail swinging back and forth, how did she manage to grow it that long? Not to mention keep it all in one place and so nice and neat. Tracer couldn't even keep her chin-short hair in check.

Mesmerized by the beautiful hair she couldn't help it, was it as silky soft as she had imagined? She reached a hand out to touch it.

Her state of awe was cut short as she lost her footing and as a reaction grasped firmly on to the only nearby thing she could find, Widowmakers ponytail. A high pitched shriek followed as they both crashed to the ground.

In a blink of an eye a furious Widowmaker twirled around, grabbing Tracer's throat with both her hands and squeezing till her knuckles went white. Tracers eyes were bright red and her lips blue before she got a hold of her anger and let go, leaving Tracer coughing desperately for air.

Widowmaker turned her attention away from Tracer and held onto her precious hair defensively, as if Tracer was a thief wanting to steal it. She saw loose strands of her hair still laying in Tracers filthy palms, for a moment she choked, something that may have been passable as a sob.

She unwillingly lead her gaze to Tracers palms again, observing her forever lost strands once more. Tracer's palms didn't move, she wasn't coughing either, she was completely still. Another glance revealed blood pooling around the girls head, her eyes were dull and lazy, her body completely still.

Widowmaker panicked sweeping the girl off the ground along with her bag. It was a short way to the limousine. "Hospital, now!" She was frantically tapping the side of Tracers cheek to keep her awake, she had stopped the bleeding with medical gel from her utility belt. But there was little she could do.

Tracer was there, then she was not, it felt like her body was floating. She saw Widowmaker's eyes glancing down at her, for once they weren't piercing, not looking for ways to tear her apart. She was cooing French to her, it rung softly like a song in her ears, yet it sounded so far away, she drifted.

Her surroundings shifted, people in white and light teal stood above her.

\\\\\

Widowmaker sat upright in the waiting room, legs crossed. She hadn't seen Tracer in weeks, not for her lack of trying. Tracer hadn't shown on missions since she last found her in the park. It was sort of bitter, as she had devised a particularly humiliating session she never got the satisfaction of performing.

On the other hand she did have her hands full. Overwatch was running a program to revive old bastions in hope they would be like their unique bastion unit.

Safe to say Talon has been busy keeping the Omnics from destroying villages and towns. How is it Overwatch is the good guys again? Wait, they aren't.

Its a reason they were shut down to begin with, they are a bunch of crazies. Including the girl she had just brought in, they killed real people to protect machines, who would do such things?

According to Overwatch, Talon are the bad guys because they are strictly anti-Omnic, cyborg, or any of those destructive beings. Hey, lets forget about the Omnic crisis! Why they even allowed sentient machines to live was alien to her.

"Beings who can kill you should die", she reasoned. Glancing at the _personnel only_ sign above the doors Tracer was taken through.

Maybe she was wrong just this once. She wanted her alive, not dead. It was no fun watching her body limp and face dull, it gave her no joy.

Would she enjoy killing her? Breaking her toy would mean the end of her fun, Tracer would no longer wiggle and squeal in her hands. How she loved that feeling of control over someone lesser than herself. Killing was the ultimate form of control, and she loved that, but it was too short lived.

She had been utterly surprised when Tracer had called, incoherent and desperate. Tracer asked for next to nothing, and she had a easy time pushing her for an even worse deal. The poor girl had sustained some serious damage. "Oh how the annoying had fallen." Widowmaker laughed silently for herself, producing as much of an amused smile as her features allowed.

It wasn't out of her heart that she would give Tracer medical treatment, it was to give her motivation to follow her orders. Also practical considering she would eventually hurt her badly, she just hadn't guessed she would end up breaking her skull that quickly, such a pity.

"Don't die today Cherié." The words that left her were emptier than she imagined.

\\\\\

They had given her drugs to keep her awake during the procedures. She had several broken ribs, a piece of her upper shin was fractured, a cracked skull and another bad concussion.

What's left of the pain after the treatment is nausea and the throbbing in her head. Her only real complaint is that they didn't fix her leg, she was used to being uncomfortable by now.

They had been prodding her with questions regarding the injuries. They noted she had suffered two successive concussions. Maybe a third she couldn't quite remember, and with the one Widowmaker gave her barely a few weeks ago she had sustained an estimate of four.

"Super bad" the doctors said. Second-impact syndrome could've caused brain swelling and killed her. It weren't much they could do, but to tell her to be very careful with her head the next six months.

After her injuries were good, two people in white coats enter her room, they talk to her and ask her more questions. Some she isn't willing to answer and some she thinks are inappropriate and uncomfortable, overall not a pleasant experience.

To Widowmaker it felt like hours, to Tracer it felt like thirty minutes top. They escorted her out in the waiting room were Widowmaker was working tirelessly on her nails. Not surprisingly she took good care of herself, "beauty isn't natural, its refined." She said underneath her breath.

Tracer sat as the doctors handed Widowmaker papers and talked to her, she signed and listened to whatever boring stuff the doctor had to say. They were both throwing eerie looks at her and nodding, like she was some piece of construct they were working on.

Widowmaker turned and grabbed her arm pulling her up and out of the hospital. On the way out she threw a several pill bottles that the doctor had handed her in the trashcan.

They don't talk in the limousine, they stop for a bite, some takeaway baguettes they could bring along.

Tracers gaze is straight forward into the driver screen separating them. The livid look she had before they fell well was gone, "you said you would fix my leg." She seemed phased out.

Widowmaker sat a seat away observing her "by the end of the vacation or if I feel you deserve it. I can't have you running off."

"It looks terrible, I can't do anything like this." She was in all honesty happy about the situation. Widowmaker hadn't hurt her gravely for pulling her hair, she got expensive medical treatment and food. What bothered her was looking like a deformed person, and not being able to run if she felt it necessary. Running was a big part of her life.

"Cherié, you do look awful, but you can't blame that on your leg." Widowmaker said mockingly, observing Tracer from were she sat, there was a hint of something ominous emitting from her, but it faded as a smile formed to her usual cheeky face. 'What now, is she deaf too?' Widowmaker let it slide.

There was something pleasant and inviting about Tracers facial features, her face was uncommonly expressive. Not only making her easy to read, but also very interesting.

In the heat of their sessions she had several times found herself thinking Tracer was beautiful, a girl of all people, beautiful? It wasn't like her to question her sexuality, not that she felt anything for the opposite sex either, but she had been married once. Only reminding herself that she did kill him.

"Can I have some food?" Tracer turned her attention to Widowmaker, seemingly finally out of her own head.

Widowmaker raised a brow "you just ate five minutes ago?"

She was surprised by her statement "what? No I didn't, I haven't eaten all day." her tone credible as she could be.

"Is your stomach rumbling?" A rhetorical question testing if the girl had any wits.

Tracer folds her hands on her stomach "no..." She wasn't hungry at all.

Widowmaker was inspecting her, her eyes were sharp and attentive, uncomfortable to Tracer. She waited for her to say something, but it never came. Tracer knew she was looking for something, a flaw? Whatever it was, it made her uneasy, Widowmaker had been keeping an eye on her the entire ride.

\\\\\

They stopped at a large storage building.

Though, it wasn't a storage building, it was a slaughter house, the main entrance had large billboard sign _The_ _Finest_ _Butcher,_ with a graphical cleaver symbol and blood-spatter all across. It looked eerie and shady as any storage building could.

Tracer turned from her window to Widowmaker, her face was full of mistrust "why have we stopped here?"

She layered her French thickly and suggestively. "I have a surprise for you, Cherié" followed by a obvious faked smile.

Tracer quickly retracted her legs up into the seat and leaned as far away from Widowmaker as she could "no wait, please... "

The driver opens Widowmaker's door then hers holding it open making sure Tracer can't shut it, but the girl has already shifted to the middle of the limousine, out of reach.

Widowmaker who is outside, impatiently waiting by the door, sneers "not that you little runt, you are too easy to scare. We are here to correct your leg, you look awful."

"Fix it here?! What are you going to do, cut it off?" She didn't seem any less suspicious. In her defense Widowmaker made no attempt at sounding credible, her look was more irked than anything.

"Something like that." She said non-reassuringly "We're here for more than one reason, just be a good girl and keep your mouth shut and this will be over sooner." She was holding her hand out to Tracer.

She gave in against her better judgement and took her hand, she was immediately yanked out and escorted inside the building. She had been unwilling, but yielded quickly once Widowmaker gave her a death glare. "Be a good girl or ELSE." Emphasizing the _else_ beyond what Tracer thought necessary, she swallowed and shrunk.

The driver, a short snobby looking man in a suit, was holding on to her. He was cute, he had short black and neatly kept hair. Presumably doing whatever Widowmaker finds below herself, like keeping her crippled nemesis still.

The inside was formed much like a store, meat behind glass counters, they sold meat, not that difficult to guess. Or at least it was set to look that way. She knew they weren't there for the actual meat.

They were greeted by a mature woman behind the counter, the store clerk. "Ahh, welcome! How can I help you Madam?" She had turned to Widowmaker as if she instantly knew who had the authority of the three.

"I got some new meat I want to tender and... What do you say, fix?" It didn't seem like this was somewhere Widowmaker visited often, but she knew enough about their practices. Not surprisingly.

"I know who you are" she smiled and seemed pleased "easy to recognize, no need for the formalities. For later reference, its called _premium preparation_. This way Ma'am and Mr" She doesn't address or even pay much notice to Tracer. She is essentially looking over her head, as if she was a dog.

They go to the back, the woman is gone momentarily and the floor opens wide, a broad set of stairs lead down. The clerk is already a step on the way "shall we?"

At this point Tracer is getting extremely nervous, but Widowmakers driver was firmly holding her arm, not forcibly, but supporting her unsteady weight as they walked down the stairs. He did nudge her reassuringly, a small boost to her lacking courage. She took a liking to him.

It was strangely sleek and sanitary compared to the outside, like walking from a farmhouse to into an apartment like Angela's.

There were a lot of really long hallways. Where they were standing had to be a small piece of a larger complex. There was even an elevator on her right side. According to the floor counter ontop of the elevator doors, it had eight floors.

The elevator was spacious, even with the four of them inside. "Anything other than the leg?" The clerk inquired.

"No, she has just had procedures at the hospital." Widowmaker had definitely been through this a lot of times before. The casual attitude she had to the entire situation including her familiarity with their protocol, it was way too cool and controlled.

"We will measure her now, and fit her after the leg is done." she glances at the butler sizing him "I can find help to handle her" Tracer didn't like how the clerk talked of her, like she was an animal of some sort not capable of hearing them.

"No, I can handle her" Widowmaker didn't waver, the clerk wouldn't question her either.

They arrived at the fourth floor, it was large sleek room, glass doors covered the walls. Beyond each door there were tiny prison like dorms, real people locked behind the doors, two each small cubicle. Mostly women, all stunning, a few of the rooms had men, but nothing in comparison.

Was this a modern slave trading ring of some sort?

She had stopped at one of the glass doors, not adhering to the driver pulling her shoulder. There was a girl in there pressing against the glass, she reminded her a lot of herself, similar frame and hair colour. Only dressed in underwear, like a brothel girl. If she ever had a sister, she would probably have been like her. Sooo god damn beautiful too, it almost hurt.

Two arms reached around her waist from behind, pulling her into an embrace, Widowmaker breathes into her neck in a delicate tone. "Don't keep me waiting"

Tracer glances once more over the forlorn girl behind the glass. A normal reaction to seeing people locked up would be to run away or fight to get away, but she had gone numb from the past two days. She had little chance to get back on her feet or even live without help. Leaning back into Widowmaker's body and whispering "are you going to sell me?"

Widowmaker tightens her grip around her waist "I want you." Tracers cheeks became rosy and her heart speed up. The older woman noticed her ogling the girl behind the glass "do you like her?"

Before Tracer could answer Widowmaker turned her around, leading her back in the correct direction. "Too bad, you can't help her" her tone was suddenly annoyed, bordering on angry. As they walk she flirtatiously gropes Tracers butt making her jolt and giggle. She felt bad for them, she would help if she could, but life wasn't always fair, she of all people knew that.

The clerk and driver was already far ahead, conversing.

\\\\\

She got pushed through a door, it looked a lot like a doctors office. If a doctors office had an operation bed with restraints for the entire body.

Widowmaker was standing close behind her as a bald man in a white coat measured her neck.

"Is this to fix my leg?" She sounded doubtful, her large eyes flickering nervously around the room.

Widowmaker sighed. "Yes. Its easier this way, trust me. Correcting your leg would take weeks in a hospital, there is countless of regulations regarding reconstruction of bones."

She frowned, "regulations are to protect patients like me are they not?"

To her surprise the bold man answers her. "No. Standard procedure nowadays is giving you a cybernetic knee. Governments are scared of bio-weapons and biological enhancements." He flicks his fingers "like super soldiers."

Widowmaker smirks, pointing at herself "I am a good example of what they do not want, yes? Also your friend Soldier 76, massive troublemaker. Sit on the table." Tracer has to skip up on the table edge, its taller than her waistline.

The bald man continues "I assure you I am better than the doctors who handled you at the hospital, I'm paid far more." He says as he counters his statement by casually and carelessly plunging a syringe into her thigh. Not removing her tights, or even looking her way.

Tracer growls "watch it!" It doesn't hurt, but she still jerks in surprise. Her body suddenly feels like heaven, the aching and throbbing is gone. "I love whatever was in that..." Seconds later she's already dozing off.

He turns to Widowmaker "what anesthetics did they use in the hospital?"

She hands him the papers she got at the hospital "nothing of mention, she got some stimulants. We had an accident coming over here, the hospital was closer."

"This wont be a problem." He places a pair of round glasses at his nose and turns to Tracer.

She is laid down on the operations table and a huge machine is lowered in above her. She is already unconscious when he places a tubed mask over her mouth and nose.

\\\\\

When Tracer awakes she is laying down in the limousine, she feels groggy and wobbly, but fumbles her way back up into a sitting position. "Were was that?" She rubs her bedhead hair.

"Some place you should hope you never return to." Widowmaker was sitting on the other side, a large package of meat in the seat beside her. "Unless you return for the meat, they are the best."

"My leg!" Tracer jumps in her seat hugging her healthy and non-crippled legs, cradling them like babies. "Thank you!" She smiles from ear to ear, she could definitely find some work like this. Once she got a chance to run away.

"Already thinking of running off aren't you?" Widowmaker tilts her head glancing at Tracer who is obviously faking anger at the remark. "I'm thinking of no such thing!" She pouts, sticking her tongue out.

"Shall I remind you that we had a deal? I put a slave collar on you" She explains holding her hand up as if it was something obvious.

"A what?!" Tracer gapes, reaching to her neck, she hadn't noticed it was there. A black band of some sort, thick like a belt with a metal o-ring attached to it, she can see the reflection in the window.

"Its simple, it has a lot of energy. If you somehow try to remove it, it will kill you, think exploding head." Tracer sits still moping in defeat.

She continues "it has four voice activated modes, giving you high voltage shocks if I utter specific words. It will also fry you if you try to leave a designated area, it has a GPS, I can track you too."

She lastly adds "I don't doubt your friend Winston can remove it easily without harming you, but you wont be anywhere near your friend the next three months."

Tracer decided to keep her mouth shut. She would have to wait for another opportunity to get out of there before she got hurt really badly. First she had to figure out the bloody collar, and how to disable it. Her face and hands were plastered to the passenger door's window as they entered the mansions gardens, it was still a few minutes driving until they reached the actual mansion. To Tracers surprise it was light and Roman inspired, not dark and Gothic.

They enter the mansion that of course has a grand entry staircase. She knew it! "Follow me" Widowmaker lead her up the long staircase. She was probably going to be there for awhile...


	11. Slave girl

The driver, or who actually is Widowmaker's most trusted butler placed her belongings some were she was supposedly going to sleep. They were standing in a living room, it was late, but Widowmaker had a few things to go through with her about her stay.

Widowmaker was layering her speech in elegance and thick French accent. "Since you are going to stay in my living quarters, lets go through some ground rules shall we?"

Tracer knew she was a brute and a vulgar woman, all this class was mere pretend, or maybe she was a insane mix of the two.

Widowmaker started her initiation of Tracer. Her voice was stern and serious. If a stance could intimidate, it was hers.

" 1. Never disrespect me.

2\. You must obey all my commands.

3\. You shall address me only as Mistress.

4\. You shall ask for permission for any act while in my presence.

5\. You are only allowed to talk specific and explicit.

6\. All your choices shall be made to please me.

7\. You will wear whatever I have prepared for you, at any given time.

8\. You are not allowed to touch yourself, your sex or otherwise.

9\. You are not allowed to have any kind of sex unless given permission.

10\. As long as you are here, you are my property, my slave, do not think greater of yourself."

"You will get food and shelter in return. Understood Cherié?" Her hands were on her hips, standing tall above the petite girl.

It was all rather sudden to Tracer. Could she even remember it all? And no touching herself, what the bloody hell, she had to go around horny all the time? She rolled her eyes, "yes" though she could probably just lie about that one.

"Stop." Widowmaker's said curtly.

Tracers legs gave in as her body jerked in shock, the collar was pumping high voltages into her body sending her to her knees, shrieking. She was grasping her neck gasping and clawing, her body still spasms occasionally seconds later.

Widowmakers arms were folded, clearly displeased. "That is the lightest of four power settings you may receive for disobedience. Understood Cherié?"

"Yes, Mistress..." She is still on the floor, it didn't hurt for long, but it was like an intense buzzing feeling in her body. It effectively made her lose control of her muscles and at the same time contracted them painfully. There is no pain afterwards, save a tiny residual ache, like an itch.

She REALLY didn't want Widowmaker to repeat that word, it wasn't the least bit pleasant. The next time Widowmaker opened her mouth Tracer flinched expecting a new shock.

She clapped her hands twice, . "Good, seems like we are finally in an agreement. You can wander the gardens freely, but you cannot exit any of the fences. Doing so the collar will give you repeated shocks of the second grade till you are either dead, or back inside the mansion grounds. One each twenty seconds."

The mansion gardens were huge though, it took five minutes to drive through it from the front, and its still stretched out beyond.

"If you receive a normal shock at any given time without my presence, it means I'm calling on you to return. Understood?"

"Yes Mistress. How can I please help you never do that again?" Lowering her head just in case, she finally sorta had it. Tracer had played this game with her before, be good get praise, be bad and receive corrective punishment. Bad meant a lot of things though, this was going to be like stepping into a minefield.

"You are such a sweet girl" Widowmaker cooed, she was bent over leaning on her knee, lifting Tracers chin glancing into her eyes. There was a tone of sympathy to her voice, but Tracer couldn't really tell because her sinister glare overshadowed everything. "Lets go through, grade two to four, shall we?"

Tracers pupils grew large swallowing the hazel in hey eyes. "No, wait! I'll be good Mistress, I promise, " she had clung to one of Widowmakers legs looking up, pleading her.

Widowmaker patted her head reassuringly, a sincere reasoning tone calming her "I must set some standards Cherié, you must learn consequences"

Tracer whimpered "But I-"

"STOP!" The collar activated and Tracer froze, her reflexes had no time to kick in, intense pain bolted through her. A feminine screech left her mouth as her muscles cramped and she dropped on her back, her nerves seared, Tracer's entire body burning in intense heat. She was shaking uncontrollably on the floor, it was stronger and lasted longer making her head numb.

She was wheezing for air, it had felt like someone took a sledgehammer to her skull and jolted it through the rest of her body. It was gone, but she felt dizzy, her body still tingling. She had to get back up, she had to be strong.

Tracer crawled back up on her knees. Her body occasionally jerked involuntarily. "No more. Please, please have mercy." Squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to be spared from another.

Widowmaker held a hand to her ear "what? I can't hear you."

"Please Mistress... I'll be good" her voice shaky, she bowed laying her head in her arms on the floor. Her breaths were quick an anxious, "I'll be a good girl, Mistress" almost forgetting to address her properly.

Tracer choked as Widowmaker violently hauled her back on her feet by the collar. She clenched on to her shoulders not to lose her footing, and to her surprise Widowmaker held on to her. 'Mercy? For her?' Tears shimmered in Tracers eyes, she stuttered badly, likely because of Widowmakers physical handling "y-ou wo-nt re-gret it Mis-tress, Im-ma be ni-ce."

Widowmaker loved her like this, pleading her like she needed her, did she love the helplessness? Or her frightened and tear filled eyes? Such beautiful expressions on the freckled face she had grown to enjoy. "Shhhh, relax Cherié" She soothed, hugging her tightly. "Can you stand?"

Tracer could, it was fine really. There was aching in her body and numbness in her skull, unpleasant, but fine. "Yes Mistress. Please no more?" She was on her own feet now, her hands tucked to her chest, eyes full of hope. "I will do anything Mistress."

"Didn't I tell you to be specific and explicit? What will you do?" Widowmaker held around her lower waist, her arms were long enough for there to still be a good gap between them. No doubt only to maintain constant eye contact with Tracer.

Tracer blushed, do what? Is that something suggestive? At this moment in time all she wanted to do was to not piss Widowmaker off, or irk her, or be even be visible to her. She was tiptoeing though a lion's den with bells on her neck, hoping not to wake the lions.

It was difficult with Widowmaker looking at her like that. "I will go to bed and be at my best behaviour from tomorrow." Biting her lip didn't help, she felt so small looking back at the woman.

Widowmaker laughed, it was heartily and felt weird to Tracer, she never laughed in any other tone than malicious. "Are you tired? How cute, go on then" she spun Tracer around and slapped her butt as to get her moving.

Tracer skipped, giggling "thanks love", and was halfway through the room when she recalled not being given a sleeping quarter yet. Or even shown properly around. Her brain must have gotten spooked during the shocks. She's about to turn when she hears Widowmaker's voice ring through the air.

"You forgot to address me again, Cherié." A tone so cold it could turn a heart to stone. "Twice."

Tracers turn became a frantic spin "WAIT!" she doesn't hear the activation word, she blacks out immediately from the sensory overload.

The next second she is on the floor, paralysed and shaking violently. Every nerve ending and pain receptor in her body activated simultaneously, telling her brain that every little piece of her being was being fried alive by intense fire.

It lasted long, if she even could remember when it started, or when it ended. She was spasming terribly, her brain didn't recall. Her brain no longer worked.

She was not okey, she was really not okey anymore.

It felt like she had just been beaten black and blue by Angela's baseball bat, if it was made of metal and glowing searing red. Only this time it struck all of her simultaneously, including her insides.

It was nothing like anything she had ever experienced before. If she could describe the pain, it would be like dropping into the sun and being torn to pieces by the molten flames, without dying.

As she laid there on her side, she felt completely exhausted, she was drained of power to do anything and her body had shut off entirely. Tears rolled down her face in silence, for once her expressive face was utterly still, no fear, no joy, nothing.

She had been suffocated, unable to breath during the shock, but she didn't gasp for air. There was just a low gurgle coming from her lips, and her chest heaving, proving she was still alive.

There were no thoughts in her head, it was eerily empty. A numb, aching body, her chest was clamping horribly, but her heart somehow kept beating. The only thing she noticed was the smell of burning flesh, putrid and gruesome, she puked. She had never smelt something so horrible, and it came from herself.

She couldn't register Widowmaker lifting her from the ground, but she felt her cloths leave her body, and soon warm water running over her form. She was sitting in a shower, Widowmaker was there, she spoke French to her, a song? She had heard it earlier on the way to the hospital. It felt familiar and soothing.

She was dry when she felt her body being laid down on a blanket, an animal skin? The surface was hard, yet fuzzy and soft. The floor? The numbness was escaping her, bit by bit. But the exhaustion caught her and she slept.

\\\\\

Tracer woke up shivering, her body was filled with goosebumps. She had been sleeping naked without a blanket, it was dark, but the moonshine illuminated the room through the large windows.

She sat up finding herself beside a bed, she could see over the bedside. Widowmaker was laying in the middle of the bed facing her way, sleeping. The bed was large, large enough for four and the blanket was large enough for her to steal a part for her cold self.

Against her better judgement, or perhaps at the current lack of brain function, she stealthy crawled up in the bed, careful not to wake the demon's slumber. She had laid down and was just about to grab a piece of the sheets when she glanced over at Widowmaker, her golden eyes glowing in the dark, looking back at her. Her eyes were about the only thing Tracer could see, her blue tanned skin blended with the darkness and only left a silhouette of a person.

'She's awake?!' Tracer flinched as her mouth opened, she could see her white teeth. A yawn? Tracer jerked violently, Widowmaker grabbed her by the collar and pulled her in. Its a short fight, Widowmaker overpowers the poor girl and puts her weight on her.

Its... Very comfy. Widowmaker has her pinned hugging her like a teddybear, Tracer is somewhat flustered as her face is pressed against Widowmakers soft, yet firm breasts, their legs locked. She had never been this close to Widowmaker, she was wearing underwear, it felt frilly. She didn't get to sneak peak before the older woman twirled the sheet around them, pressing them even closer together.

Widowmaker isn't warm, she isn't cold either, but her skin is velvety, silky and her body feels soft like the nicest cushion fluff. Tracer's heart is pounding in her chest, but she's too tired to be affected by her hormones. Widowmaker is murmuring French in her ear, it sounds sweet, she's good with words. 'I wish I knew French' her last thought before sleep took her in again.


	12. Mother's bad girl

Warning: Warning, some weird stuff...

Note: I know this is still supposed to be partly humour, but I got a total writers block on the entire thing so, here we are. Really sorry about that! Going to try a later chapter. Thanks for the reviews!

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Widowmaker isn't there when she wakes up the sheets still smell of her, its a rosy calming and delicious smell. At least she thought it was delicious, she's not being creepy... Just honest.

Sleeping in Widowmaker's bed was strangely a lot less sexual than she had imagined in her mind. It hadn't been a cuddle session either, she was just a comfort plushie the entire night. Widowmaker was squeezing her thoroughly and whenever she had tried to roll away she would just get pulled back in again.

Lena had eventually given up and accepted her fate.

On the bright side Widowmaker hadn't pressured her out of her comfort zone like Angela had. Too sudden is too sudden, especially if its partially forced on her. There is a huge grey area between consent and being sexually exploited, even raped. She's not sure if she could handle being raped by Widowmaker, her own fantasy's were one thing, but it was just that, fantasy.

Maybe Widowmaker didn't think of it that way at all, maybe she just saw her shivering in the dark and prevented her from getting sick. But she wouldn't hug her then, would she? Warmth was pooling in her lower belly.

She twirled in the sheets and reached down between her legs, just barely managing to retract her lusty fingers "waiiit! This his her bed Lena" she whispered to herself. 'She told you not to touch yourself... Better safe than sorry, right?'

She sat up surveying the room, recalling the shocks she received yesterday. "Don't get yourself fried again..." The thought of another round with shocks got her engine revving even harder. 'What the bloody hell is wrong with you Lena?!' She buried her head in her palms, shaking herself out of it.

She knew what was wrong, she had taken too many hits to the noggin and now her wires were all mixed up in one hell of a spaghetti platter. For all she knows the best orgasms she can have is by folding origami and reading haiku's. All three would definitely please Hanzo. Or at least that's what she thought. She missed Overwatch, which was perhaps the one and only certain thing she knew.

But she also sort of knew what Widowmaker already knew, that she is unruly. Not that Lena had the greatest personal insight. However, she knew following rules and keeping in line weren't her gift.

So maybe just this once she will avoid crossing Widowmaker... By not touching herself to the thought of being electrocuted... Simultaneously saving some face to herself while she was at it. A good cause.

'Be good, no shocks.' Lena found her accelerator on the night stand along with a white set of underwear, a white mini skirt and a white short-sleeve button-up shirt.

It was a cute outfit and Lena spun around playfully in the mirror. She had unbuttoned the shirt perhaps a tad too far, almost the entire accelerator showed through her shirt along with the edges of her white bra. It was hot outside! She wouldn't intentionally dress skimpy... Around Widowmaker... Totally not.

She had been given the wrong size bra, but strangely enough everything fit perfectly.

How did Widowmaker manage to get cloths her size? This couldn't be Widowmaker's, her hips are broader than her own, she has a much bigger rounder butt and she's an entire head taller. Not to mention Lena's fun-bags are bigger, maybe she had some pick it up?

She took a second in the mirror, she was happy her looks were mostly natural. She had smooth non oily skin, save her freckles her face was clean. What she used was usually eye makeup to highlight her eyes, which she had guessed is her best feature, or so girls and boys had told her.

It made her life easy and cheap, all she really did was shower regularly, low maintenance looks were great. Not that she actually had any luck in her love life anyway. Her mind wandered as she was about to leave, she would have to figure out were to get breakfast.

'Pssst Lena!' she turned to the mirror looking at the girl standing there. She had always been sort of amazed by how long her legs were, yet she weren't even that tall. Models legs people had told her, she blushed. "Models legs..."

'Hey Lena!' She remembered why she didn't like mirrors, looking at herself for extended periods of time often got creepy, sometimes she couldn't recognize the person she was looking at. It was still her, she knew that, it just felt unknown.

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She was interrupted by the driver standing in the doorway. "Excuse me miss Oxton, I was told to show you around once you awoke. Madam Lacroix is running an errand." When she turned to him she could see he was still in the same suit and straight like a lamppost, nose high.

It was easy to guess that the Madam of the mansion was Widowmaker, her surname is Lacroix?

"You know my name?" She was playing with her hair, it was somewhat awkward and her anxiety was was creeping in on her.

"Of course. I wouldn't be very good at my job if I couldn't remember simple names now would I?" Strange as it was, he seemed genuinely nice, it was nice snobbishness.

"Please follow me." From the few interactions she already had with him she knew he was a stiff man, the complete opposite of herself. Or could it be the job?

They were walking down the hallways in silence, Lena couldn't handle it and settled for some small talk. "What actually is your job?"

"I answer the door."

She tilted her head "that's it?"

"No, I also drive and cook. I handle Madam Lacroix's everyday schedule, appointments, work and events. The lady is busy, when she has time off she doesn't want to be disturbed. I, along with the staff make sure she can relax during that time."

"Sounds like a busy job." Or a dangerous one. Knowing a little more about him made her ease up, he wasn't as secretive as Widowmaker. Not that she actually ever asked her much.

They had passed into a dining hall were he handed her a sandwich and a glass of juice, both were gone in a blink of an eye. "Thanks love!" Licking breadcrumbs from the creases of her mouth and placing the glass on the closest tabletop.

The man wasn't fazed by Lena's erratic behaviour, perhaps lightly amused underneath the stiff mask. "It can be quite extravagant, at times tedious, but it is a good job and I am lucky to have it. Now, part of my job is you miss Oxton, you are a long stay guest. If there is anything you need, come to me."

He began walking and Lena followed in tow, it was a lot like sightseeing with a tour-guide. For a second she wondered if Widowmaker gave him the same treatment as her, but she shook her head as that was very unlikely.

Lena was beginning to lose her sense of direction as they progressed further inside the mansion. What would Widowmaker possibly need all this space for?

She blurted "since you know mine, what is your name?"

"You can address me as Walter" He scratched his nose.

"Is that your real name or?" She isn't entirely convinced, he was breaking his poise and the usual confidence was gone while he said it. Like he had dropped out of character, if only for a moment.

He had a sudden change in his attitude as he grabbed a door handle leading her into one of several living rooms. "A name is a name miss Oxton, if you so wish you can call me Mr."

"Oh! Now that I come to think of it, were am I going to sleep?" She had skipped in ahead looking through what she could find of interest. Most of it was just old or classy stuff, boring.

His face was stiff as ever. Lena wondered if he and Widowmaker ever played never-smile-never-laugh together, it would be a tough match. "You share quarters with Madam Lacroix, like you did tonight. Is there a problem?"

She avoided eye contact, a slight stammer in her voice. "No, no problem, I'm just new here, that's all."

What? Is she supposed to keep sleeping with Widowmaker? That sounded wrong... Yet still excited her more than it should have.

He followed Lena in quick paces picking up and catching anything and everything she threw around her, successfully preventing her from ruining several expensive items. "Good. I know it can feel somewhat restrictive at first being in your situation, but the Madam is a good employer. I'm sure she will have compassion on your behalf."

Yes, compassionate and good, the exact the words Lena would never ever use in the same sentence as that woman's name.

Yet it sparked some curiosity in her. "Has she brought home people like me before? I mean like this" She points to the collar around her neck.

He grunts barely able to support a shelf Lena had clumsily pushed over, with his back, slowly and steadily standing it back up. His face is red from the exhaustion, but his voice is still calm as ever. "No, the Madam only have people over for events or dinners. But I have never seen her bring a man or woman to her quarters before last night. However, she is spectacular at coming and going unbeknownst to me or the staff."

"Did you... Hear me scream last night?" She looked down and away, it was incredibly embarrassing, did they hear all that?

"I'm sorry, what? No, I do not make a habit of listening in on the Madams affairs." He shook his head and shrugged.

"But a scream, really?... " Walter promptly ignores her question dusting his now wrinkled suit.

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Lena would guess she had seen most of the mansion by now, at least the important parts. "What do you know about Amiéle then? Work and all."

He was partially out of breath by now, Lena was incredibly fit, in deep contrast to himself. "I handle her work in terms of... Schedule. I do not question what she does, it pays well and what pays her well pays me well." It had been an all time record workout preventing Lena from causing untold damage to Lacroix's property for the past hour.

Lena wondered how much being a successful assassin actually paid. Widowmaker took high value targets like Mondatta, there ought to be people paying a high price for that. Thinking about it made her clench her teeth in fury, she hated her. Or she should have.

"Can I ask what opinion you have of me?" On a social scale, she was probably the lowest of the lowest. Walter seemed honest with her, he answered about every question she had and it satiated her curiosity.

"To Madam you are property, to me you the Madam's property. I will take care of you like the mansion and her car. But I am not blind, I know you are a person" he winks with a slight smile "and you do not need to be dusted or polished." The humour was dry, but Lena appreciated the man trying to lighten her mood.

"Do you live here? Do anyone else live here?"

"There's the butler, that's me, two gardeners and two maids, there is also a chef, he is on vacation leave. Then there's you Miss Oxton"

"But I don't really work or anything do I?"

"Cars don't drive unless somebody makes them, everything has a purpose." He coughs into his clenched fist while looking down.

"Uhuh..." She wondered what Walter thought Widowmaker had her for, did he just imply that she was _driving_ her?

"That reminds me, the Madam will be home soon, be at your best behaviour." It sounded more like a command than a suggestion. Lena knew that when it came down to it he was absolutely on team-torture-Lena.

"Yes Mr." Lena could be formal if she tried hard enough, it was just against her nature.

"In the meantime, lets take a rapid course in etiquette and you can enjoy some sparetime after." He had laid down a box with cutlery, handkerchiefs, plates and glasses. As he started, Lena could feel she was dying a little inside. "A spoon isn't a spoon Miss Oxton, neither is a glass a glass, let me show you."

Right about now she was missing the shock treatments. And for Walter it was payback time.

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Widowmaker heard two people conversing from a nearby room while tracking Tracer's collar. She recognized Tracer's voice, the other one was obscure, almost whispering. Upon entering the room she realizes its just Tracer by herself "were you talking to yourself?"

"No, I'm just looking at stuff Mistress" Tracer beamed, she had found old antique weaponry and was playing around with gunpowder and bullet presses. It was all strewn out on the floor were she was sitting.

"That is very dangerous Chérie, you should put it down before you lose your hands." Widowmaker had crossed her arms frowning in displeasure.

Tracer wanted sooo badly to reply 'yes mom' but she knew that would be the last words she ever uttered. Instead she settled for pouting and making puppy eyes at her from the mess she had made on the floor. Opening her mouth would lead to a disaster.

Widowmaker let out an annoyed sigh. "Fine, you got one hour to finish up and shower. We are having dinner guests and I expect you to be there."

Guests?

"Oi wait Mistress! You gave me the wrong size bra." Tracer pulled her strops looking up at her.

"No, the ones you wear are too small. You use the last hook on the strops and they always give you bad skin lines. I'm not having that on you, it looks terrible. Now get cleaned up." She pointed towards the door before she left.

"Yes mom" Tracer giggled. Down with the authorities! British punk is the best. Also rebelling silently by herself, to avoid Widowmaker's wrath was probably one of the better choices she had made in awhile.

On the other hand she didn't really know what to reply. Widowmaker is a very attentive woman, and she had seen her naked on several occasions, not with her consent, but still. The woman knew way too much about her body already, including all her sizes. Its like confronting your stalker about their unhealthy obsession, not going to happen.

Though, the bra wasn't getting uncomfortable after the normal wear period and it felt better underneath her accelerator, she liked that.

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When she entered the dining hall Widowmaker and her guests were already seated. She was in time, was she not?

"Look at that, she's here, sit." Widowmaker held her hand out to a chair on the opposing of the table to her. On the table end sat a young man, about Tracer's age and on the corner edge an elder woman, she could only assume was his mother.

They had been eating for awhile, it was clear Widowmaker didn't want her there any sooner.

The elder woman looks intrigued. "So that's who you were talking about, she's a pretty one." She turned to the man and kept conversing about something Tracer didn't care to listen in on.

Widowmaker had walked to Tracer's side of the table and placed a small fancy palette dish along with three glasses, a smoothie, juice and water for her to eat.

Tracer promptly emptied the plate not noticing Widowmaker slipping a white power in her smoothie and mixing it in one swift motion. In her defence neither did the two guests.

"And very unruly." Widowmaker slides her hand along Tracer's jawline as the returns to her seat on the other side of the table. "She almost never listens and keeps causing me frustrations in my daily life."

The man looks at the elder woman. "My son seems to like her, what's her worth?"

"She's not for sale, its more of a novelty item,. Its the only person in the entire world who can warp time. Always a good show for guests." Widowmaker would never admit the reason why she kept the girl.

By now Tracer had gotten used to people talking about her like she wasn't around, she never even turned her head their way. She instead hungrily chugged down the smoothie ignoring all etiquette Walter had shown her, and then the juice glass.

"Yes, I see, she is not exactly schooled in manners." The elder woman had folded her hands under her chin, inspecting the girl.

Widowmaker scoffs. "Believe me, she just had three consecutive shock grades last night. I think she's just partially broken"

The remark irked Tracer, she was on good behaviour, not her fault they had only fed her once today, and its already getting dark. So much for food and shelter.

"And she is up already? Hardly looks like she's been in any scrapes at all."

"I know. She handles pain quite well. The day before that, she cracked her skull in an accident, broke a few ribs and the same day she's up and causing trouble making me discipline her. "

The elder woman watches Tracer shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "You enjoy unruly servants?"

"She's a lot of fun, my days can become rather bland, otherwise I wouldn't keep her, now would I?" Widowmaker seemed bored tapping her glass, most likely hoping for the dinner to end soon.

Tracer interrupts carefully. "May I use the bathroom Mistress?" She was getting uneasy, bordering on jittery.

"No"

"But I-"

Widowmaker interrupts her, "finish your water."

It was just a glass of water, but she was already full. The faster she finishes means that she can get out of there right?

Tracer hurriedly chugs down the last glass, causing her to choke and breath heavily. Water was spilling down her mouth and on the white shirt as she choked every other chug. It was truly like seeing a toddler try to drink on their own.

The guests weren't sure if they were seeing right. The girl yet petite and beautiful was surprisingly primitive. Her uneasy behaviour came almost from nowhere and only got worse by the second. By now they had stopped conversing and settled for observing the interactions between Widowmaker and her slave.

Tracer is clearly in pain from holding herself back "may I use the toilet Mistress?" partially jumping in her seat, it came from nowhere and it confused her as much as it hurt.

"No."

Tracer clenched her fists, her face looks strained bordering on panicked "Please Mistress, I really have to go, I can't hold it any more" she's desperate writhing in her seat.

"No, be still, we have guests." Widowmaker's tone is strict as she gestures to her company who is just sitting there baffled at the imprudent girls behaviour. Tracer now at the brink of breaking ignores her and is about to stand up from her seat.

Widowmaker's golden eyes narrowed at Tracer for her continued disobedience "stop." Tracer gasps and jolts from the electrocution produced by her collar. Her legs give in and she falls back down on the seat. She is finally frozen in place, except for her body spasming on occasion.

Tracers mortified face says it all to Widowmaker. "What did you do Chérie?" Her eyes are piercing demanding the girl to answer.

"..." Tracer partly in shock and embarrassed to the point she wants to disappear or just die.

"What did you do?!" Widowmaker looks at her in shocked disbelief, wrinkling her nose.

The girl's hands were tucked into her lap, her head was hanging submissively as she stammered "I-I peed myself, Mistress..." Water like liquid was dripping from the chair pooling on the floor underneath.

The guests were wide eyed and had become speechless, they had never been this uncomfortable during a dinner. It was truly a first time horrific experience.

Widowmaker calmly stood up from her seat "you have to excuse us" and proceeded to show her guests out. She was gone for a good ten minutes before she returned, possibly doing damage control.

Tracer is still sitting in the seat head hanging low in shame. Her thighs and bottom was wet, it was a warm feeling, yet disturbing and disgusting.

She couldn't recall ever having done something like this. 'How? How did you do this Lena? In all possible settings and situations you had to do it here? Right now?!'

Widowmaker had returned standing beside her. "Can't you hold yourself for five minutes? Peeing yourself in front of my guests, how embarrassing!" She slapped Tracer across the face with a flat hand, leaving a rosy tone in her pale cheek.

Tracer looks away on the brink of crying. She didn't know what was wrong, she had never peed herself in her entire life.

Widowmaker's stern angry facade twists into a wicked amused smile knowing her guests are gone. "You dirty little rag, aren't you potty trained? Clean it up!" Pointing at the mess on the floor.

"Something to clean it up with Mistress?" She was blinking back her tears.

Widowmaker pulled the chair away from underneath her "on your knees!"

Tracer managed to get on her feet as her seat disappeared, she wasn't slow by any means. Her face is filled with dread "no wait please."

"Do you remember when you said _anything_?" Widowmaker leans in to run her fingers through her short chestnut hair. "Drop on your knees. Stop."

Tracer gasps as her body buzzes in shock. Her legs gave in and she fell on the spot, into her own pool of fluids. "I don't wanna..." She's trembling, but its hard to tell if its out of electric shock or fear.

Widowmaker steps on Tracers head pushing the unwilling girl down "lick it!"

She sobs, squinting her eyes shut while sticking her tongue out barely touching it, she flinches and gags at the taste, pleading "please..."

"Shut it!" Widowmaker put more pressure on her foot pressing Tracers cheek to the floor. She gave up fighting and licked the pool, choking and crinkling her nose at the horrid taste.

"You nasty little slut, drinking pee? How disgusting you are." She put her foot back down and Tracer rapidly sat up licking her shoulders to get rid of the taste.

"You look hungry, want more?" Widowmaker holds the neck of her suit as if she was going to pull it down. "What?" Tracer's pupils dilate "nononononononononoo" quickly crawling and seeking refuge underneath the table.

Widowmaker laughed mockingly "don't worry Chérie, I'm not an animal like you. Come out and stand up."

Tracer reluctantly crawled out of her hiding place and stood back up fidgeting with her shirt. "I'm sorry Mistress... There is something wrong with me..." Widowmaker inspects her, mostly just ogling her now see through skirt.

"Really? You don't say." She shakes her head and shouts "WALTER."

A moment later the butler enters the room. "Yes Madam?" As professional as ever.

"Fetch one of the maids, get this mess cleaned up." She grabs Tracers shirt and drags the girl along to the bathroom.

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There were few words for how embarrassed Tracer was. She could feel Widowmaker's eyes on her entering the bathroom, what did she think of her? She never wanted anyone ever to see her lose control of her bodily functions, especially not an enemy. But being embarrassed was the least of her problems, she was scared of what unspeakable things Widowmaker might do to her.

"Undress." Widowmaker had her cornered, she was huddled defensively against the shower wall.

"Turn around first...Mistress" she wondered whether it was a good idea to ask anything of Widowmaker at all. But to her blissful surprise the tall woman sighed and turned, swinging her hair in a slight protest.

Tracer quickly spun around turning her back to Widowmaker and threw every concern aside. Unbuttoning her shirt, unlocking her accelerator and sliding it down along with her bra. She didn't like the situation, but she really wanted to shower off the dirty feeling she felt all over.

She put two fingers on her waistline not wanting to touch the pee soaked skirt, slowly peeling it off along with her panties. It clung to her making it all the more difficult not to touch anything more than necessary. Tracers attention was fully on her own state of being, not noticing Widowmaker glancing over her shoulder, watching her back as she was undressing.

Tracer shook the skirt and panties off her leg and kicked it across the room, somewhere far enough for her to feel less disgusted. Without asking for permission she turned the tap and warm water poured over her naked body.

Another failure.

She wrapped her arms around her droopy body. The hopelessness she felt at the hotel was back, tearing at her mind. She mourned her losses, her misery, the mile long heartbreak which was everything her life ever amounted to.

Yet the water was soothing, a band aid for the pain that had been and was to come. Perhaps it was all for nought, the world would find a way for her to suffer again and again, just because its her. She felt alone, always on her own, clawing desperately for a better life that never came.

Tracer was leaning her forehead at the wall, she belonged nowhere and her body had stopped listening to her. The body wasn't even hers any more, it belonged to Widowmaker now. A collar pressed tightly around her throat reminding her every second. She was choking back tears, crying isn't her. "Do you hate me?"

"No." Widowmaker had turned, watching the girl's hunched body and her sad self embrace. Tracers voice was small "then why do you hurt me?"

All Tracer heard was the dropping water, she never expected an answer. It was more of an attempt to achieve human contact than anything, if the woman could even be considered human, she wondered.

She didn't want to leave the shower, despite her insides burning, the water felt nice. 'Not everything is bad', she retrieved a piece of her usual cheerful self, smiling 'the little things...'

"Chérie" Tracer could hear it loud and clear through the dropping water. It startled her, her head jerked up and she leant back off the wall, crashing into Widowmaker who stood eerily close behind her.

Widowmaker's long arms crossed Tracer's hipbones and wrapped around her lower belly, it was tickling her and giving her full body shivers. Warm water was pouring down on them from the shower-head.

"I hurt you to see what I feel, because I do feel something..." She gently pulled Tracer in close, she gasped as cool wet velvet skin touched hers. 'Widowmaker is naked? Oh my god she's naked!' Tracer's face turned scarlet, her heart speed up and her breath quickened as Widowmaker's supple breasts pressed against her back. She swallowed, stuttering "what do you feel?" Hope lingering in her voice.

Widowmaker had a flat hand on Tracer's belly, whispering into her ear "I want to touch you." Her hand slid down Tracer's belly, the girl squirmed and tried to break free, but Widowmaker's second hand held her firmly in place. Too sudden, it was too sudden! Tracers breaths were heavy, she had leaned forward trying to get away, yet her feet pointed inwards. "What are you doing?!"

Widowmaker's lips brushed against her neck "touching you, _Lena_." Tracer felt her hand slide down between her thighs, causing her to jolt "wait wait wait wait!" She was panting, the woman's hips were grinding against her back making her hot and horny. Tracers voice was almost inaudible "not like this..."

Widowmakers slender fingers just barely grazed her folds, but pulled back and soon both her hands firmly grasped Tracer's hips instead. "What was it you called me?" A sly smirk formed on Widowmaker's face "Mom?"

"….." It takes a moment for realization to slap Tracer in the face, 'oh shit, oh shit OH SHIT, she heard!' She reached out and turned the shower tap off, her movements were stiff and wobbly. Widowmaker's lips were pressed to the nape of her neck and her breaths caused Tracer to quiver.

"N-no... I didn't" her eyes were wide and flicking nervously around, but all she saw was the shower wall that trapped her there.

"Do you have Mommy issues Lena?" Widowmaker was chuckling amused, mocking her. "No I don't!" She'd finally had enough and pried Widowmaker's hands from her hips.

A short victory, Widowmaker grasped firmly on to her hair and violently tugged her head down holding her in place. "OWWW!" Tracer whimpered.

"So you want me to be your Mommy?" Widowmaker groped her left breast with her free hand, squeezing her roughly.

"No!" She had both her hands in her hair trying to lessen the pain Widowmaker was causing.

"But I am..." Widowmaker tone was sultry, she was teasing her badly and treating her total shit. She gritted her teeth, it was always like this with Widowmaker.

Her life would be easier if Widowmaker wasn't so freakishly strong, or absolutely exceptional at everything she did. 'God, make her slip just once, bloody hell!' fighting was futile, but she didn't want Widowmaker to do just anything to her either.

Tracer jerked in surprise as Widowmaker pulled her head back and sunk her teeth into her neck, it was a light bite. Yet still made Tracer freak, shrieking "what are you doing?!" Her arms and legs fumbled for a bit, trying to push Widowmaker off, but her head didn't budge. Her arms felt weak and her vision blurred "wha-" dazed, then she blacked out.

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Tracer woke to find herself bent over a table, she felt tipsy. Her legs were bound tightly to the legs of the table. It made her legs spread and she blushed thinking of what she was exposing to anyone behind her.

Her hands were tied together and the rope looped around the front legs of the table straightening her out. She ran her tongue over the ball gag in her mouth and she felt a dibble of spit leak out, down her lips.

She was naked and her bare breasts rubbed on the table as she pulled in the restraints. Her hair was still damp, she could only have been out cold for half an hour.

"Morning sleepy head" came a voice that filled her with fright and excitement, "looks like you have overslept." Widowmaker slid something hard along the back of her thighs, making her squirm.

"You think this is a game Chérie? You treat my frustration and your punishment like a game." Widowmakers laugh was punctuated by something wide, flat and very hard making rough contact with Tracer's bottom. Her eyes opened wide and she let out a cry that was promptly muffled by the ball gag. She recognized it, it was the paddle again.

This was a game, neither of them would really admit they liked it, especially Tracer, who was humiliated and hurt at every instance. It was a strange collision between the act of dominance Widowmaker craved, and the attention of a beautiful female that Tracer longed for.

"Disobedient slut!" Widowmaker swung the paddle with both her hands. It came down hard on Tracer's bottom, she tried to buck as the paddle hit making a loud smacking noise. This time had hurt really badly, the table slid a little bit on impact. Her cries almost made it past her gag and Widowmaker chuckled at her muffled chokes.

Her tone was that of a reasonable, sympathetic woman talking to a child. "Nownow, don't cry. You have been a very, very bad girl, and mother must punish you" Widowmaker came to stand before her and roughly lifted her head by the collar to look at her. The wooden paddle was in her left hand, smooth and polished.

"But first, you must show your appreciation" she said holding the paddle close to Tracer's eyes "kiss it" she commanded. Tracer looked bewildered, but Widowmaker pulled on her collar, "kiss it! Do what your Mother tells you."

She recalled failing to praise Widowmaker properly last time she was bound. She quickly and awkwardly pressed her lips on the shiny wood, the gag prevented her from giving it a proper kiss. Instead she repeatedly pushed the gag against the paddle leaving drops of drool from her gagged mouth.

A sinister smile was smeared across Widowmaker's face as she walked around Tracer, sliding the paddle across her bottom. Her strikes came quick, across her whole ass, on the right cheek, on the left. Tracer was screaming into her gag, rocking the table in her restraints, it hurt like hell.

But as much as it was painful, she also relished each strike strangely turning her on, digging her short nails into the tabletop. Widowmaker rested a hand on one of Tracer's rosy cheeks, she squeezed it with her hand and ran it down between her spread legs.

Tracer wiggled letting out furious muffled protests as Widowmaker's hand ran over her dripping wet pussy, sliding her fingers through her silky smooth folds. Heat was radiating off Tracer into Widowmaker's palm, making her bite her lower lip. "Are you ready for your punishment?"

She looked into Tracer's pleading eyes, she was shaking her head 'no'. Tracer jumped causing the table to skitter as the paddle smacked her butt harshly. This time it was even harder making her scream and sob, small hiccups followed, she had trouble breathing through the gag.

"Are you ready?!" Widowmaker was stern and angry, her patience for the girls disobedience began to run out. Tracer reluctantly nodded 'yes' and to her relief Widowmaker undid her ball gag, making her able to finally close her dripping mouth.

"Look what you did to your Mothers fingers, clean them" Tracers eyes shocked by Widowmaker's hand infront of her, she really didn't want to lick more of her own fluids, she never wanted that. "No... Mother" her butt hurt and another round with the paddle would be devastating to her fragile ass, but she was already grossed out beyond what she could take. Whatever it would cost her.

"Then do you want this Chérie?" Widowmaker was pointing on to her glossy blue lips, full and delicious. Tracer forgot everything she just had set her mind to, like a dog she nodded eagerly and licked Widowmaker's hand making her laugh. "Ask nicely"

Tracer hesitated for a split second, contemplating the humiliation, before she gave in to her raging hormones. "May I kiss your lips Mother?"

Widowmaker bent over the table to Tracer, "yes Lena" her voice was sultry, so close to her freckled face. Widowmaker's sweet rosy scent travelled to her nose setting her on fire, right as her cool soft lips pressed to hers, a wave of ecstasy flooded through Tracer.

They broke apart, Tracer gasped from the pleasure that came on contact with her blue soft cushioned lips, satisfied sighs followed from them both. Tracer was red as a tomato and looking away, she wondered what Widowmaker looked like, probably cold as always, but she dare not look.

"You must be the devil's daughter, so tempting... So beautiful" Widowmaker angrily threw the paddle across the room, it slammed to the wall startling Tracer. "What are you doing to me?" She shouted grasping Tracer's collar, lifting her head.

"Nothing Mother, nothing, I'm sorry Mother," Tracer pleaded helplessly in her bonds. Widowmaker let go of her collar and stood by the side of Tracer, resting a hand on her round bottom.

"You have been a very, very bad girl, count with Mother, Chérie." She said through gritted teeth as her hand made contact with Tracer's already cherry red bottom. Tracer let out a cry, whimpering, trying to choke her tears away.

"I will spank the spoiled hell out of you, COUNT FOR ME!" Widowmaker yelled as her hand came down hard again.

"ONE, MOTHER"

"YOU GET WHAT YOU DESERVE..."

"TWO, MOTHER"

"FOR BEING A TEMPTING SLUT..."

"THREE, MOTHER"

"CAUSING ME ALL THIS FRUSTRATION..."

"NINE, MOTHER"

"ASK FOR MY FORGIVENESS..."

"SIXTEEN, MOTHER"

"SO I MAY FIND MERCY FOR YOU" Widowmaker's palm rested on the small of her back, it had gone sore and red along with Tracer's bottom.

"Thanks Mother..." Tracer whispered through her tears and sniveling.

Widowmaker stood and looked at her work, but her head hung. Was her temptation all along? Tracer was sobbing innocently as always. She should have drunken her misery like fine wine, savouring every drop, letting it fulfil her, making her feel alive. Yet she felt wrong.

Widowmaker cut the ropes tying Tracer down and she immediately curled into a fetal position on the table.

What made it incomplete? Her anger was gone, but it was replaced with another eerie emptiness, save it wasn't empty, it hurt. Clamping painfully inside her blue tanned chest. Had she been too harsh?

"Lena?" Widowmaker slid her along the table top, in close to the edge she was standing at.

"It hurts..." Tracer whimpered, not moving from her safe body curl. "Of course it hurts Chérie, its a spanking. How else would it work?" She smiled softly.

"You spanked me." She said accusingly. "I did." Widowmaker nodded and slid her hand across her sides. "And I enjoyed it very much. You have a very spankable ass, no?" Her tone felt soothing and so did her hand gently stroking her.

Widowmaker nudged her, "I'm not going to knock you out and dump you somewhere, come here." She lifted her up off the tabletop and held only by her upper body, Tracer had no option but to put her feet down and stand. "Better?" She gave her an innocent look.

Tracer's eyes said it all, she wasn't the least bit happy, her large hazel eyes were fiery. Usually she had been too tired or confused to be angry, but right there and then she was none of those things.

\\\\\

"Come" it was more a command than anything. Widowmaker was sitting upright in the bed reading a book not really looking her way, she was wearing alluring lingerie and looked absolutely gorgeous.

It had taken awhile to convince the girl to come with her, in all honesty she should have punished her severely. However, Widowmaker's goal was to have her cooperation without having to strike fear in her heart at every wrong move.

And she did have her cooperation, but she was bound to get some dissatisfaction on Tracers part for playing with her. Not that she was bothered by it, she licked a finger and turned another page.

Tracer had just gotten out of another shower and had a towel wrapped around herself standing by bed. Crawling up to Widowmaker was tempting, but she didn't want to be the girl who bedded her abuser either. One of those weak ones who keep coming back when there's nothing there.

Instead she ran her mouth "why did you call me by my name?" Widowmakers eyes flicked up from the book locking on to her. "Because. Why not?" Vague, she should have expected as much by now.

Tracer held a hand to her neck, a small bite size bruise stung at touch. "You bit me, are you like a vampire or something?" She had trouble maintaining eye contact with Widowmaker, embarrassed by her childishness and somehow yet scared that she might just be a vampire. It surely fit!

A huge scary grin formed on Widowmaker's face and she put the book away. "Why don't you come and see for yourself?" Tracer could swear she saw fangs in the edge of her mouth, not the least bit comforting.

She hated the supernatural, when she was young she had an extreme fear of the dark. Too many horror stories at the orphanage had made her like that, kids love scaring kids. Considering she was already afraid of Widowmaker, it didn't make it any better.

Like a child her curiosity sparked and wary as ever she crawled up on the sheets, Widowmaker's gaze followed her eerily, the woman sat entirely still leaned to the bedpost.

'Could she really be a vampire?' Tracer was on her knees before Widowmaker, on her lap. For once she was a tad bit taller than her, and Widowmaker had to lean her head back to continue her stare into her nervous hazel eyes.

"I'm just gonna..." Tracer wasn't sure how to go about this, it was bound to be awkward and space invading. Her curiosity got the better of her, nobody would be surprised if that's what killed her. _Here lies Tracer, curiosity killed her._

She held a hand underneath Widowmaker's jaw and put two fingers on her soft lips, pushing them in and slowly parting her teeth. Widowmaker didn't resist, it felt like she was helping her, she saw something... 'What are those?!'

Before she could get a good look Widowmaker shook her head and closed her mouth. Tracer's eyes were wide open in shock.

Widowmaker had to admit it was a cute look, she could almost see the shivers running down Tracers spine. "Not like that Chérie" she smiled.

"How else? …" Tracer looked like a big question mark before it suddenly hit her "Oh..." and a blush crept up her face.

Widowmaker laughed, she couldn't believe she once thought the a girl a slut, she was so sweet and innocent.

To Tracer it felt strange sitting above Widowmaker, being taller than her. Her features looked a lot softer and cuter from above. "So I..." She placed her palms under Widowmaker's chins. Her hazel eyes were wide open trying to keep track of the blue woman's movements, but she kept still, looking back up at her.

Tracer knew Widowmaker was more dangerous than she was beautiful, like natures own warning that she should turn and run away. With a strange mix of lust, fear and curiosity stirring inside her, she took a small breath and swallowed before hunching over quickly placing her lips on Widowmaker's.

For a second she froze there, feeling Widowmaker's cool, soft and full lips against hers, like a little bit of heaven. Her blue lips parted and Tracer tongue entered her, they kissed deeply, tongues dancing, Tracer blushed at the way her body burned with desire.

Tracer quickly broke free gasping. 'Holy shit her tongue is bloody long and thick!' She was already out of breath, not expecting to meet resistance. 'Just like a vampire?' Tracer thought as she felt hands on her back sending shivers up her spine, she gets pulled in and their lips collide.

Widowmaker's lips parted again and she eagerly pushed her tongue inside her, consumed by lust. Soft, loving, whirlwind of a kiss fully reciprocated by Widowmaker who felt up her front and grabbed onto Tracer's breasts, caressing and massaging them.

Tracer wanted to check, in some weird way she was still curious, and somewhat frightened that Widowmaker might kill her any moment for invading her space. The blue woman didn't let her, or she couldn't tell, either way, the harder she kissed the harder Widowmaker would repay it.

Widowmaker's fragrance dazed her and suddenly she was spun around and smashed into the soft mattress on her back. Widowmaker was laid on top of her, her face buried in Tracer's neck, pecking it softly. "That's enough Lena..."

'Please, please touch me...' She thought looking up into the ceiling, silently begging Widowmaker for more. She finally realized the truth, all that she wanted was right here before her now.

"Touch me?" She was stupid to let her guard down, she knew that, Widowmaker would use it to tear her apart, but right there and then she didn't care. She was sooo horny it hurt.

Widowmaker looked into her eyes, there was a glimmer in the golden, a promise of something sweet. An intention of sort, but the woman collected her wits and she returned to her normal self. "No, I'm tired Chérie."

Tracer whimpered lowly "tease..."

Widowmaker rolled over on the side and pulled Tracer into little spoon."I'm going away for a week. Behave while I'm gone."

A disappointed sigh from Tracer, "yes Mistress."

"Oh, and I hope you don't mind I may _eat_ you while you sleep" Widowmaker runs her sharp teeth teasingly along Tracer's neck making her freak. 'VAMPIRE!' Tracer would have been wavering her limbs frantically to get loose. But Widowmaker already had her restrained by wrapping her arms and legs tightly around her.

As Tracer screeched in horror Widowmaker closed her eyes and went peacefully asleep.


	13. Itsy bitsy tipsy

Widowmaker had been gone on business for an entire week. In the meantime Lena had gotten to know the staff around the house.

Not being assigned actual work other than being there for Widowmaker's amusement made everyday life a vacation. But already two days in she had began getting bored, except from the residual soreness from her spankings there were little to pay attention to.

At first she had attempted to learn etiquette from Walter, who quickly found her to be a lost cause. "That's enough Miss Oxton. Lets try something more intuitive."

Walter tried to teach her cooking, a nice change from the pasteurized food she usually ate. Her diet was just a complete mush of stuff she put in a blender closed her eyes and chugged down.

She could swear Walter was about to die of a heart attack as she went straight for the blender and "desecrated the food" according to him it was the most atrocious act he had ever laid eyes upon. It puzzled Lena, he was okey with slavery, but cut a vegetable the wrong way and he is all up in arms.

With Solder 76 as her field mentor it was never about enjoying anything, it was all for a purpose, no wonder she ended up this way. Before him she only ate noodles though, it was an upgrade, she'd give 76 that.

In the end that's why she had gotten a bad sweet tooth, candy and sweets were her savior. However, she had made an habit to keep away because of her highly addictive personality. God help her if she ever got her hands on drugs.

Instead Walter had made her restaurant worthy food everyday, containing everything she had told him she needed. He seemed to know a lot about calorie intake and proper upkeep of the body. Along with different diets when participating in physical activities, like she did everyday.

Running was her go-to activity, morning, midday and evening, she couldn't stop appreciating her functional legs. The gardens were more like a park, perfect for jogging, even though she kept well within the borders. The thought of electrocution always loomed her mind when she shuddered just thinking about it when she got too close to the edge.

At least her will to exercise still remained, blowing off steam helped coping with everything that had happened.

Widowmaker had treated her a lot better than she expected. Not that she actually was around, but her stay was more like a six-star luxury hotel than just shelter and food. Save the actual things Widowmaker had to done to her, she could really get used to this.

They even had a large pool she would do daily cool off swims in. She had tried during the evening, but as soon as the sun went down the place became littered with mosquito. Being anything else than completely submerged would lead to an itchy experience.

"Its the rain we had during the start of summer, the ponds we have turned into mosquito factories. Even the fish can't stampede them." Walter had said standing perfectly still at the pool edge while waving a can of bug spray around.

Lena had spent time in the gardens learning about maintenance and other plant-y stuff from the gardeners. It was great, the gardens were beautiful and the sun was shining until late evening, she almost got a tan. But sadly got sunburned instead.

Seven days in she still had a lot to do, she found several interesting hobbies and her to-do list was overflowing. Having things to do was her personality trait, slightly hyperactive, nothing to worry about though.

\\\\\

It was late evening and Tracer had just gone to bed. The sun had gone beyond the horizon and as she turned off the light the room fell into almost complete darkness.

Before sleep could take her in the bedroom door opened quickly and slammed shut equally fast. Enough for the hallway light to blind her, making her squint momentarily before it went dark again. Spurring life back into her "Mistress?" She sat up covering in the sheets, there was no reply and the room loomed in silence.

In the dark she could make out a tall slim silhouette leaning on the door, then suddenly collapsing. Tracer fumbled to turn on the night stand lamp and leaped out of bed stumbling her way to the figure.

"Mistress!" She could see Widowmaker now, sprawled out at the floor.

Tracer is wearing a small track shorts and a bra, the perfect sleepwear. Quickly approaching Widowmaker in her tipsy half conscious yet increasingly aware state, 'is she injured?' The night stand lamp didn't illuminate the entire room, but enough for Tracer's adapted eyes to see about everything she needed, but not details she wanted.

Widowmaker was leaned back on the door, looking more than just exhausted, her eyes were dozy and her entire face seemed dead. Tracer has never seen her this way, not that Widowmaker was the epitome of liveliness, but she always had a sharp and strong appearance, not like tonight.

"Mistress, are you injured?" Tracer slurred her words. Widowmaker was wearing her coat, covering what injuries she might have sustained, if any. Tracer sat down in front of her, up close it was easier to see she was clearly upbeat.

Her visor was still on her head, Tracer had never seen it this up close before or at least paid attention to it. At distance it looked scary and almost disgusting, but up close it was more like a fine technological piece of headgear that had lights on it. The shining lights were sort of pretty.

"I'm tired Chérie, go back to sleep" her entire form looked the part, she wasn't lying.

Tracer smiled hoping to lighten her mood "come to bed and sleep if you are tired, common" she pulled her arm, trying to get the woman in action.

"I have to take a shower, but first I will rest here. Leave me" Widowmaker weren't budging, her arms were hanging by her shoulders and randomly bent as they connected with the floor, she hadn't even attempted moving them.

Tracer was touching her too much for Widowmaker's comfort, her hands were running over her trying to get a better grip and she dropped to her knees twice almost crashing head first into her. It was pathetic, Widowmaker hadn't thought the girl would be up this late and now she was walking around half asleep causing more harm than good. "I'm just tired, leave me be."

Tracer didn't believe for a second she was just tired, she had some major damage done to her. Widowmaker's body looked like one big noodle, not even the good kind. "Just let me help love" Tracer mumbled removing Widowmaker's headgear and embracing her in a tight hug, a show of affection that almost made Widowmaker gag.

"No, and it hurts." Widowmaker was steadfast, but physically she was no more than a shadow of herself.

"If you are really that hurt can't you just get help from one of the miracle machines?"

"I did, but I'm not as... Vigorous as you, its a normal side effect."

"I didn't get any side effects..."

Widowmaker sighs "your world is not like our world Chérie."

It was true her sense of time was skewed. Perhaps she recovered and rejuvenated somewhat quickly from scrapes, but it hardly made a noticeable difference, or did it? She wasn't particularly subjective.

It wasn't the time to re-evaluate herself, she worried about Widowmaker's state, not her own. "Mind if I take a look Mistress?" Tracer pulled in closer.

"Actually I do."

Ignoring the woman's wishes Tracer started unbuttoning her coat to survey the damage. Widowmaker tried to protest by pushing Tracer's away, but her hands were shaking and utterly powerless. "What part of _I do_ don't you understand?" She sneered.

"The part were it looks like you are dying." To Tracer it felt like she the gentlest touch Widowmaker had ever given her, but she saw the angry intention in her golden eyes. If she had the strength she would have used every ounce of it and made her regret crossing her.

Not able to stop Tracer from opening her coat she turned her head in one last protest, sneering and muttering cuss words in French. But apparently not angry enough to electrocute her.

Widowmaker's suit's upper body was almost totally shredded to pieces, only a few strings kept the neck and shoulders still attached to the lower piece. Tracer had to hold her breath to keep quiet and avoid panicking, whatever hit Widowmaker must have torn her body to pieces.

"How are you feeling love?" she couldn't help being concerned, it looked bad, really bad.

"..." Widowmaker narrowed her eyes in annoyance, it didn't merit a response, if she couldn't recognize her obvious state then explaining it wouldn't do any better.

Inspecting closer the most grueling part was the shreds of suit that still remained. The purple shade was gone and was instead coated dark red by coagulated blood, it must have been fully soaked at one point.

Widowmaker had however managed to wrap bandages around her breasts, covering them partially. That wouldn't have been Tracers first priority if she was about to die or in any grave situation.

"What happened?" Tracer's face was one of shock and empathy.

The blue woman sighed, still unmoving "a minor setback and some collateral damage. Just nuisances"

"Waitwhat, nuisances?" Tracers brows furrowed.

"Yes, _nuisances_." Widowmaker gave her a you-know-what look. Tracer disliked the way Widowmaker articulated it, it was eerily similar to Overwatch of late. Not wanting to complicate things any further she dropped the subject.

Tracer smiled, repeating herself from earlier "want some help?" While grabbing one of Widowmaker's limp hands and kindly embracing it in her own.

Widowmaker turned her head nose high, scoffing "I can do it myself, I'm not crippled."

The remark enraged Tracer, mocking her for being friendly, but she decided to give Widowmaker a pass. "Don't be stubborn Mistress, let me help, you don't have to upkeep appearances for me." She whispered softly and snuggled in close, wrapping her arms around her waist and burying her sleepy face in Widowmaker's neck, resting.

Widowmaker gave her a piercing look and was not pleased at all, but the fact was that she couldn't actually move on her own. It had taken everything she had, physically and mentally to upkeep her appearance while injured and in the aftermath of the treatments. If she had shown even a fragment of weakness she might lose her next big job, or even her reputation, not going to happen.

"Very well, help me shower this off, then put me to bed." She commanded, with her usual strict voice. She could at least pretend to have the upper hand, but she knew Tracer had already picked up on her helpless state.

Gambling on Tracer not waking up was not a bad idea, to her experience the girl could sleep through almost anything. She was just unlucky with the timing of her entry, but now that she's first awake she could at least use it for some good.

Tracer pulled away from her smiling and winking, her words were slurring "don't worry love, you are in the best hands." Playful and lively as always in an attempt to put Widowmaker at ease, instead the woman instantly regretted asking a clearly sleep deprived Tracer to help.

Tracer grabbed her shoulder and successfully supported her back on her feet. Widowmaker had to lean over her, exhaustion caught her immediately tearing at her breath and her legs were shaking. "Wait, Chérie." She was clearly in pain, biting down to swallow whatever sounds she might have made.

Tracer stood there giving her a moment to collect herself, meanwhile she helped her get the coat off, it weighted her down unnecessarily. "You got totally shit-mixed didn't you?"

Widowmaker's voice was almost inaudible "lets not talk about it..."

It was a slow walk to the bathroom with Widowmaker hunched over her shoulder, she weren't heavy yet they stumbled a few times without falling, Tracer was unsteady. She had guessed Widowmaker was heavier, being insanely strong and a full head taller than herself. Maybe it was time to look at Widowmaker more as a woman, rather than mysterious and scary enemy.

If she hadn't been crazy attracted to Widowmaker she would absolutely have left her there. Why was the woman so stupid hot anyway? What's the deal? Its absurd. Maybe Widowmaker had her own demons, striving with something that Tracer couldn't see, she was very good at keeping her facade.

"Just hold out a little longer." Tracer assured, Widowmaker's head was hanging, all she saw was the floor.

Widowmaker drove her senses crazy, the one thing that kept Tracer grounded was the constant reminder that Widowmaker loved to hurt her. At least Widowmaker liked something about her, however sick it was.

'Lena, you love badgirls don't you?' Even if it was true she would probably have fallen for about any insanely beautiful woman she spent enough time with, that's just nature, anyone would, even if their minds weren't as warped as her own.

\\\\\

"The bench," Widowmaker's breath was frightening quick, her chest heaved, normally there were little to no signs of her breathing at all. Luckily the bathroom was close to the sleeping quarter, Tracer let her down on the bench beside the showers and went to get her a towel.

"This isn't a normal thing for you is it?" Tracer wondered how long assassins lived, but she made a quick guess that it was like every mercenary profession, one part skill one part major luck.

Widowmaker seemed more out of it now than when she first had come through the door. She was supporting herself on the wall with her eyes closed. Tracer could see her teeth clenching along with occasional frowns as the pain spiked.

Tracer wasn't sure what to do, she weren't the best at emotional support to begin with, nor did she have much experience handling people in pain.

Widowmaker's chest heaved, the woman swallowed and Tracer was sure it was her pride going down the drain, as she reluctantly called on her. "Chérie?..." Her golden eyes engulfed in sadness, like she had never been so low. "I need to shower."

"Okey..." Tracer sat down on the bench beside her. She felt sorry for her. Of all the things that Widowmaker displayed, weakness and sadness were not of them. "Don't worry, it will be alright" Tracer soothed, patting her head reassuringly. Widowmaker shot her a deadly glare, she didn't want Tracer's filthy hands anywhere near her hair after the previous incident.

"Woah! Relax, I'm going to help you right?" Widowmaker pouted, turning her head in displeasure, a childish gesture that surprised Tracer. Widowmaker wasn't perfect after all, she almost seemed... Human.

As Tracer slid in closer Widowmaker flinched and her eyes became wary, flicking up and down Tracer inspecting her closely. "I gotta do this, I won't harm you, I swear" putting on a gentler smile. Widowmaker was cute like this, not her being in pain, but the way she was weak and helpless. Maybe Tracer felt just a tiny bit predatory.

It was almost like Widowmaker was able to read her mind, her look resembled something like fright, although Tracer couldn't really read her, but she was certainly not trusting.

Tracer leaned in fast and kissed her, a sudden movement that caught Widowmaker off guard. The girl ran her hands along the torn fabric at her sides, slowly laying Widowmaker on her back letting and go of her lips. 'Its just to calm her' she told herself, that was all, she wouldn't act on her urges, she wasn't some monster... Also Widowmaker might just kill her for that.

It must have helped, or sent her into shock, most likely shock, either way Widowmaker was no longer looking frantic. Tracer smiled heartily, 'it worked?' she was beginning to get used to her nursing role.

"Relax love" separating Widowmaker's arms from her chest was easy enough. Widowmaker sneered when she touched her, but ended up looking somewhere between miserable and displeased. It was happening either way.

Tracer put her fingers underneath Widowmaker's bandages and carefully unwrapped them, it took a while to pull them out from under her. As she removed the bandages she laid the towel over her breasts to hopefully keep her Mistress happy.

"Half way, baby steps right?" Tracer tired small talk with her, nothing witty, but Widowmaker had gone quiet and that was the cue for herself to shut up.

It took Tracer time to figure out how to remove Widowmaker's boots. Latches, clamps and bonds kept them in place, like one zipper wouldn't be enough. Really. After fumbling for what seemed like forever she pulled them off and removed the few strings of fabric that remained on Widowmaker's shoulders before grabbing her remaining suit by the waist and pulling.

Widowmaker's undies were blood soaked, but she decided to let them remain. As much as she wanted to see her naked, she also wanted to keep possible future punishment survivable.

While down there she couldn't help but notice Widowmaker had gorgeous feet, she would have guessed her feet looked like her own. Full of thick and constantly peeling skin from all the running. There was none of that, her feet were soft and beautiful like she had never walked barefoot or even ran before.

Tracer helped her back up on her feet holding under her arms, it seemed like laying down was exactly what Widowmaker had needed. She stood almost on her own and getting her into the shower was easy, all she did was hold on to Tracer for her balance.

She had tried to cover Widowmaker with the towel, being a gentle-woman and all. But Widowmaker hadn't even attempted holding on to it and let it drop to the floor. Exposing herself didn't seem to bother her as much as Tracer had thought.

She couldn't help but stare either, Widowmaker's breasts were perky and full, but so round and plump and her nipples were a slightly darker blue. Tracer swallowed and shook her head, she had to focus not to stare, she was there to help her Mistress, not ogle her.

Widowmaker had to balance herself holding on to Tracer and when the shower was turned on Tracer had to quickly get out of the way.

Widowmaker began pulling at her remaining panties "help me with this." without protest Tracer bent her knees and pulled them down in one swift motion, she avoided looking for some stupid reason, she would hate herself for that later.

"Go back to bed, I can manage from here." Widowmaker was standing straight now without any balance support and the first thing she did was put her nose up high.

"You can't even take off your own bloody underwear!" Tracer herself was fumbling about, but was at least in a better shape than Widowmaker, or so she believed.

"Lets not get into the details Chérie." Widowmaker shushed.

"Look, I'll be outside, call on me when you need me, alright?" Tracer was already standing by the doorway looking in, her hair and arms were was dripping wet and had stolen the towel she gotten earlier for Widowmaker.

Widowmaker glanced cockily over her shoulder "but I wont."

\\\\\

It had only gone a few minutes before Widowmaker had called and Tracer rushed in through the door.

Seeing the smugness plastered across Tracer's freckled face irked her to no end, she had no intention to admit her state "I didn't fall Chérie, my legs were tired... " A futile attempt at sounding nice to get the little rat off her back. Tracer's brows furrowed "and that's why you are on the floor calling on me?"

"The floor was much more comfortable, now help me up _slave girl_." A biting tone that frightened Tracer, her lively banter was often answered with hostility. There was not even a fragment of humility in Widowmaker, she wanted to keep Tracer beneath her sole, if being snide and malicious shut the girl up we would gladly continue.

Tracer turned off the shower and helped Widowmaker on her feet, at this point she was starting to feel unwell and regretted trying to be friendly in the first place. Widowmaker sat in arrogant silence as Tracer dried her off and bundled her hair into the towel making a turban on the woman's head. "I'm here for you Mistress, alright?" Tracer half-smiled helping her off the bench and towards the bedroom.

"I expect as much." It was difficult for Widowmaker to interpret Tracer's motivation to help and it made her suspicious. It was not like she intended to treat her good, the things she had devised for her were nothing of that sort. But she had somehow gained her respect, if not trust, something Widowmaker would be happy to exploit.

Maybe she had gone ahead of herself and already spoiled it, as Tracer was suddenly indifferent when she spoke to her. A couple of insults and harsh berating later the girl had gone quiet. Her mind weren't in a state to handle mental abuse after what happened and talking back became impossible. She tried to shut it out and let Widowmaker say whatever she pleased. Widowmaker's superiority complex was real.

\\\\\

Tracer had put Widowmaker to bed without ogling her. It would have been a major achievement on her own part, but she was simply just too disgusted and had begun to feel sickly. She flipped the light switch and finally crawled back into bed, keeping distance to her Mistress.

In reality Tracer should have killed Widowmaker. She could. While she weren't a professional in hand to hand combat she could easily put her into a choke hold and strangle her before she had the chance to utter a single word. 'Just cut off her air Lena.' Want, she wanted to, she resented her for all the pain she felt, even if she weren't the source, she added to it. 'Fuck this, fuck her, kill her!'

Tracer laid in silence, wanting to sob and feel the comforting tears calm her, but she weren't sad she was loathing and with no tears to be had. It was easy directing her anger at Widowmaker who laid before just in reach of her grip. Her claws were itching to dig into Widowmaker's throat, clawing her bloody dead.

'Why do you let this hate get to you? You aren't like this.' It felt good reaching out and touching Widowmaker's bare back with her hand, her skin was silky smooth at touch. It strangely mixed her with lust, is this what Widowmaker felt when she tortured her? She wanted to both fuck and hurt her badly as violent sexual images invaded her mind, making her feel like a sick degenerate. It wasn't her.

She had always thought herself a good girl, feelings like these were twisting her self image to something unrecognizable, making her question who she really is. It wasn't difficult adding one and one together. Her mind kept playing tricks, her moods were changing rapidly and her memory since Angela was hazy at best and blackout forgetful at worst. She was afraid of losing it completely.

Tracer wrapped her arms around Widowmaker, carelessly embracing her like she wanted to crush her, yet Widowmaker was relaxed and untroubled by Tracer's imprudent behavior.

When their hips touched Tracer couldn't help it, laying naked with Widowmaker made her entire body roar. She badly wanted to cuddle and kiss her, touch and bite her. Her wants weren't as vicious as before, but it was tough to keep herself still, her lips so close to Widowmaker's tempting skin.

Grabbing and embracing one Widowmaker's hands in her own, she could sense how limp her body was, how little strength she currently had. 'It will be easy.' Intruding thoughts had bothered her lately, not always violent, but way too often they were. She was good at not acting on it, though praising herself for not doing bad stuff might seem crazy. She wasn't crazy.

\\\\\

Tracer clumsily straddled Widowmaker's hips, a move that finally gained Widowmaker's attention. Her blue lips parted anticipating the girl doing something reckless. "Chérie?"

"Yes Mistress?" Tracer ran her hands up Widowmaker's bare stomach, past her breasts and supported herself on her shoulders, leaning over her.

It was difficult to see the intention in Tracer's eyes looking down on her. Unlike Widowmaker's eyes, Tracer's didn't shine in the darkness, her pupils mixed with the hazel tone and they became entirely black. Widowmaker prided herself on her great awareness and she wasn't devoid of means to stop the girl if she had to. Feeling Tracer's eyes intensely fixed upon her made her wary, though her exhausted state made her more annoyed than anything.

Tracer was a kind and chipper girl for the most part, but also eccentric and murderous, all together dangerous. Widowmaker's Overwatch toy was more than just a plaything, having her on top of her reminded her of just that. Not that she displayed any form of malice helping her before, but it still made Widowmaker uneasy.

"Lay down" she commanded, having no patience for Tracer's gimmicks. Not that she ever intended to entertain her.

Tracer shook her head, her voice was pleasant and careful. "I don't want to."

Widowmaker still lacked authority over her without being physical and now too tired to be properly stern, instead she dealt her like a child. "Really. I will count to three and then you will hurt."

"But..."

"No buts, HURT. You understand this yes? One.."

Tracer jumped her before she could react, the girl had her lip locked and muted, Widowmaker panicked raising her legs and arms to get her off. Her words came out as muffled agitated groans. She had no strength to move her, Tracers hands were roaming along her sides caressing her, it was calming, the kiss was non-violent and her intentions were nothing of such.

Yet as Tracer let up Widowmaker was furious, mostly for the heart-attack she almost suffered, her heart was still pounding(as much as it could) in her chest. "What the hell do you think you are doing?!"

If Widowmaker weren't certain about hurting her before, she damn sure was going to now. Tracer's thoughtless behaviour puzzled her, maybe it was just her overall stupidity or some prank she dared to pull. But she ought to know that overstepping boundaries would cause her a world of pain, a world Widowmaker would gleefully bring upon her.

Tracer's daring attitude suddenly made sense as the girl spoke up close "just a little bittle bit" she whispered, nibbling Widowmaker's neck and it was no mistaking the strong scent of alcohol on her breath.

Widowmaker's anger subsided to pure bafflement. "Are you drunk?" Her eyes tracked the girl that all of a sudden appeared tiny and harmless.

Tracer smirked, giggling "noooo, what makes you say that?" Widowmaker gaped in disbelief, how the hell did she keep them both on their feet? Tracer was downright drunk and clearly disorganized even attempting to sit straight. Her coordination was awful, but she wasn't slurring her words much and spoke almost like sober.

Had she really paid that little attention to Tracer? How did she not notice? It was true she had overestimated her own shape and capabilities since the get go, but missing something like this was insane. She put on an unusual gentle face to draw Tracer's attention away from her massive blunder of a oversight.

"Look who's in a particularly good mood" Widowmaker smiled reaching out and placing her index finger on Tracer's nose for just a second. Tracer was definitely in happy drunk land, a blissful place Widowmaker didn't visit often enough herself. "Is this why you have been so helpful?"

Tracer's heart beat faster, she had been found out. It had been easy approaching Widowmaker like this and even though Widowmaker had been a buzzkill on her mood earlier, it didn't take much for her to forget all about it. Alcohol really brought her to live in the moment.

Not that stealing whatever Widowmaker had in her cabinets was the best idea. There was a slight tension behind Tracer's words, not to mention she looked guilty as sin. "I was hoping to lose control... Just feel it a little bit tonite."

"Is that how you get off Chérie? Letting someone control you" Widowmaker mused, she liked drunk Tracer, she seemed like a lot of fun.

"Not just anyone... You" Tracer breathed in a whisper, Widowmaker frowned at the strong scent of alcohol that came off her breath "how much did you drink?"

Tracer ran her mouth "half a bottle of rum or whatever cognac is. Also tasted some other stuff, but somehow that was even worse, but I assure you I can hold my liquor!"

"I'm sure you can _Lena_ " Widowmaker chuckled softly "its French and absolutely not rum." Tracer sat awkwardly back up and Widowmaker ran her hands along up her curves. "I figured you to be a kinky one, you seem to love getting humiliated and bossed around."

"Have you thought about my kinks Mistress?" Tracer's eyes glinted with the knowledge that Widowmaker did what she did wholly for herself. But what the woman did to her were things she herself got off on, without the overbearing pain it would be a complete win win.

Widowmaker's expression was unreadable, but she didn't deny the accusation either. She inspected Tracer, recognizing the kind of attraction she displayed, she had shown it the night before she left, but it was much bolder now that she was drunk.

It wasn't as if there were hidden intentions and carefully masked flirtation between them to begin with. It was all rather straight forward between them, if straight forward meant strangely sexual.

Tracer was not really scared of Widowmaker there and then, with her inhibitions lowered and a non threatening Widowmaker it suddenly seemed like a good idea to openly hit on her. "Why so silent Mistress? You know I like it very muchhh" Tracer purred, running a teasing finger down Widowmaker's chest.

No, Widowmaker did not absolutely know Tracer liked it, her usual reaction was always of horror, reluctance and anger. But she had openly kissed her twice of her own accord as well as helped her without coercion. If Tracer truly was so consenting and reckless tonight Widowmaker might just seize the opportunity, despite her state. "You sure that's what you want?"

The answer was a clear-cut and eager nod from Tracer. She actually followed the no masturbation rule and was way past due a release, even without being drunk on top of a naked Widowmaker.

Widowmaker bit her lip "give me a second and I'll make it happen, but get off me first." Tracer playfully rolled off her.

If Tracer had been doubtful or nervous about the impending session she didn't show it, in fact, she looked excited. Not having to force a resistant Tracer was new and simply perfect for that evening.

Widowmaker took a deep breath and sat up on the edge of the bed. She felt better than earlier, obviously not up to par, but with all of Tracer's help she felt good enough to follow through. A little residual pain would not hinder her.

"I have to go get some things, don't you run away from me Lena" Widowmaker said shaking her finger at Tracer like she was a bad puppy. As if she would run away and hide at this point.

Widowmaker was gone only for a moment before she came waltzing back in, she seemed fit to walk and she held on to a small bag. Not only that, but to Tracer's dismay Widowmaker had put on a set of lacy underwear effectively covering up what she loved the most.

Tracer wondered were she got it all from, she had spent a lot of time searching the mansion and the hallways weren't that short.

Widowmaker knew the evening quickly could turn into a disaster if she weren't able to keep Tracer under her control. Hurting her to keep her in place would ruin the trust Tracer had, she were relying fully on her willing submission.

"Do you really need those?" Tracer said pointing at the ropes in Widowmaker's hands, the first hint of her nervousness setting in as the scenario started to become real.

"How else will I keep you still?" Widowmaker's smile was brimming with evil and caused Tracer to cling her unbuckled accelerator.

"Fine" Tracer gave in quickly, she had asked for it, but maybe she had bit over more than she could chew. She didn't let go of the piece of metal she had slept with underneath the sheets earlier. Widowmaker wondered if it was some sort of comfort object to her, like a child's teddybear, only for a grown up time-travelling girl. Kinda cute.

Tracer became restless, she wanted to get going the anticipation drove her mad. She couldn't stop her mind from flooding with images of Widowmaker pulling her over her knee and spanking her ass. Along with intruding scenarios of Widowmaker bending her over and pushing her face into the mattress while fucking her from behind. She knew it wouldn't come to that, but after a good spanking she usually calmed down, the next best thing to relieve tension in her body.

"Ready?" Widowmaker stared straight into Tracer's hazel eyes, it never ceased to intimidate her.

"Yes, but... A safe word?"

Widowmaker moped "what?"

Tracers voice hitched at the disbelieving expression on Widowmakers face. "Like, for safety stuff..."

"This isn't make believe Chérie, trust your Mistress. Anything else would be boring, no?"

"Yes Mistress..." Tracer whispered, she didn't trust Widowmaker, but at this point it was that or nothing for her. The thought that she was _allowing_ Widowmaker do her thing was a feeble illusion of comfort to begin with.

Widowmaker had the perfect personality for a person that loved to feel in control. More importantly she wanted Tracer to believe she was, no matter her state of being. She wanted Tracer to feel fear. That meant no second thoughts or indecisions, funny how she always had her mind made up like that. Radiating confidence was easy enough, striking fear in Tracer however, required creative tweaking.

Widowmaker wasted no time grabbing Tracer's ankle and pulling her forward to the edge of the bed, in one swift motion she yanked the sports shorts down her legs. Before Tracer had wiggled her feet out of it Widowmaker flipped her around on her stomach and put a knee on her bottom, pushing the girl down into the mattress with her body weight she unsnapped her bra and slid it slowly down her shoulders.

Tracer's face was one of shock, Widowmaker had just gone from being completely limp to man handling her. It wasn't the usual insane power and roughness, they had to be about equal in strength at that moment. But Widowmaker being less of a monster and more like a normal woman felt reassuring. On the other hand, being crushed underneath Widowmaker's weight like this made her feel vulnerable, she sort of liked the overpowering part.

Widowmaker rolled her back around straddling her belly and pulling her hands up above her head. Tracer always wondered how quick Widowmaker was with the ropes, it was quick, really quick. It felt like a pair of handcuffs simply tightening around her wrists and her arms were effectively restrained.

Widowmaker got off her and yanked her into the middle of the bed. She tied her arms to the bedpost, grabbed her thighs and pulled, stretching her out as far as the girl's petite body allowed. She admired the way Tracer's body stretched out and laid there, her full breasts high on her chest, the outline of her ribs poking through highlighting the curves of her body. Widowmaker couldn't help but think she looked like a beautiful torture victim. Or soon to be.

Tracer stared at Widowmaker, lightly testing her restraints, her legs were free yet there was little she could do with Widowmaker sitting on top of her. Not that she was up for a fight, she had asked for this and was likely why Widowmaker had left her legs free.

All the times Overwatch had made fun of her for this exact thing, her denying everything and now it was happening with her own consent. She felt depraved and thoughts of what they would think of her if they saw her acting like this entered her mind as Widowmaker's eyes wandered over her body.

Widowmaker spoke to her like a strict school teacher. "You will behave and if you cause me pain, I will not be responsible for your life any more. Understand?" Tracer weighing no more than 120lbs(54kg), drunk and with her arms restrained could probably not do much harm, but Widowmaker wanted her to be obedient and still.

At that moment Widowmaker wondered how it would feel to push her fingers inside Tracer, twisting them to feel her clench around them and gasp as she fucked her. Curious thoughts. However she most of all wanted to hear Tracer beg. For her life or for her touch? Either way she wanted it, she was sort of wicked that way.

Widowmaker's fingers folded around Tracer's throat, the girl choked as her air was cut off. She clenched till her fingers went white and Tracer began thrashing in panic, it lasted only a moment longer before Widowmaker loosened her grasp letting Tracer's lungs fill in a deep breath.

Tracer felt she deserved punishment for her rampant mind, but she didn't want to die, it truly frightened her. Widowmaker kept caressing her throat, contemplating. Tracer herself kept still, her lips merely parted to breathe, screaming would not help her now.

"Are you ever going to tell me what you are thinking?" Tracer let a telltale tone of shyness slip into her now hoarse voice as Widowmaker continued her gaze upon her naked body. Tracer kept her legs pressed together, her panties were still on. Worry raced through her mind, wondering if Widowmaker would think her sick or depraved asking for this and thus finally finding a reason to end her.

Widowmaker didn't respond, instead she leaned over Tracer and covered her eyes with dark fabric, blindfolding her. She tied it snugly behind the girls head and let her hand stay in her short chestnut hair, running her hand gently through it, lulling Tracer into a sense of calm.

It was weird having Widowmaker petting her like this, a show of affection and gentle intimacy she hadn't felt in a long time. Tracer would have been content with snuggling up and hugging Widowmaker all night, look were her cheeky mouth had gotten her.

Tracer knew she had issues, desiring affection from the one person who had kidnapped and tortured her time and again, her enemy. The meanest person she knew except from Angela, but she took comfort in the fact that she apparently wasn't the only one with issues.

Tracer bit her lip and seemed entirely too turned on by her touch, affection more than anything made Tracer wild, something Widowmaker noted. She slid her cool hands down Tracer's body, hooking her fingers in her panties and nudged her thighs apart slightly with her knee, testing how fast Tracer would respond to her hints.

She smiled pleased as Tracer's legs parted almost instantly and Widowmaker yanked her panties off revealing a small patch of neatly trimmed hair, gorgeous chestnut like on her head. Now that Widowmaker paid notice to it, Tracer was definitely more groomed than usual, nails filed, hair neater and eyebrows on point.

Widowmaker ran her hands teasingly over her body before she stood up from the bed. Tracer willed Widowmaker to touch her more, petting her hair again would have been nice, she could really settle for some more petting. But what she was about to receive was punishment, for what she never knew, but she kind of liked it, at least in manageable portions.

While being blindfolded and restrained her other senses always heightened, she could hear Widowmaker's bare feet walking back and forth across the floor. Suddenly the door opened and there was another set of feet on the floor, but these had shoes with hard soles. It was Walter dropping off what Widowmaker had asked for when she was out earlier.

Tracer couldn't phantom her being able to do all the things she did in the short period she left the room.

"Mistress, who's there? Don't bring anyone in here, seriously!" Widowmaker ignored her and took the items from Walter before he left shutting the door behind him.

"Does it humiliate you to know that I let someone see you like this?" Widowmaker asked calmly.

"Yes!" Tracer almost whimpered.

"Why is that?" Widowmaker asked softly.

"Who are you, my psychologist?! Its weird and humiliating!" Her tone carried more fear than warning, yet both were present.

"It was just Walter, but who knows, maybe he ogled you."

"What, so you fancy sharing me Mistress?"

"..." It effectively shut Widowmaker up and for a moment it was silent.

Fear accumulated in Tracer 'why do you keep running your mouth Lena, why...' Antagonizing one-liner remarks were her specialty, it was a die hard habit that always cost more in the long run than the short moment of satisfaction was worth.

The silence broke as Widowmaker popped the cork on a bottle of red wine and slid back up into the bed beside Tracer. She leaned in and pouring a thin stream of wine down Tracer's neck and to her stomach. Tracer flinched in fear, at the anticipation of something painful, but her breaths calmed as the liquid didn't harm her. The wine poured over her breasts and pooled in her belly and trickled down between her legs.

Widowmaker took another moment to ogle Tracer's body. A small waist, sizeable hips, round firm delicious bottom and overall quite petite. Aside from her boobs, that were somewhat large compared to her small frame, now covered in streams of red wine. She chuckled firmly cupping Tracers cheek "oh you sweet girl."

Shortly after, Tracer felt the sensation of Widowmaker's tongue following the trails of wine. Licking and sucking on Tracer's neck and down, drinking from the pool at her belly button. Tracer's skin covered in goosebumps and the unexpected sensations of Widowmaker's mouth left her dazzled. "Mistress?"

"Do I have to gag you too?" Widowmaker threatened. Sitting back up as she placed a chocolate covered strawberry on Tracer's lips. Tracer didn't know what it was and kept her mouth closed, expecting it to be a gag of sort.

"Bite" Widowmaker urged her, Tracer smelt the chocolate but still only cautiously bit the tip off, tasting the chocolate and sweet strawberry. The taste lingered in her mouth as Widowmaker picked it off her lips and rubbed the bitten strawberry between her breasts.

She rubbed it over each of Tracer's gorgeous nipples that were starving for attention. Widowmaker trailed it down her stomach dipping it in the wine and followed the remaining wine trail down in between her legs.

She ran the strawberry slowly and softly past Tracer's labia and traced it through her pussy, swirling it around her clit, causing Tracer to jolt at the sudden touch. Widowmaker worked it up and down through her pussy, before bringing it back up to Tracer's lips and gently placing it inside her gasping mouth. Tracer could taste herself mixed with the sweet strawberry juices.

Widowmaker noticed a bit of juice had dribbled down Tracer's lip and promptly licked her chin, her own frustration was catching on. It was urges she had trouble controlling and unable to wait any longer she traced the dribble upward and kissed Tracer fully.

Tracer kissed back eagerly, contact that filled her love starved body with ecstasy. Tracer was keenly aware of every smack their lips made and every breath Widowmaker took. She could feel the blood rushing through her body, pooling in her belly as her arousal increased a tenfold with Widowmaker's affectionate kiss.

Widowmaker sat back up pushing the craving girl down in the mattress. "Don't get too ahead of yourself Chérie" She traced Tracer's jawline with her fingers and flicked her forehead, Tracer obediently relaxed her body and laid her head back on the bed. Widowmaker was really doing whatever she wanted with her and it was exciting, but also frightening, she was keeping her on the edge. Tracer had no idea what would happen next, be it good or bad.

The woman admired her handiwork, it was not a masterpiece, but she found it fitting for the evening and what she had at hand. Tracer's body was painted in wine and strawberry juice.

Widowmaker continued following the juice trails with her tongue, licking it off and sucking greedily on each of her nipples, drawing breathy moans of pleasure from Tracer who was shamelessly horny. She bit her nipples fairly hard before squeezing her breasts together greedily trying to draw them both into her mouth at once.

Tracer squirmed pleasantly, Widowmaker was playing with her for real and it felt amazing, she tried pressing her body up against Widowmaker seeking contact. But Widowmaker pushed her roughly back down, not allowing it for a moment, before leaning in to continue licking up the juices all the way down Tracer's body.

She flicked her tongue into her bellybutton, and then slid down lower, smelling the scent of her body as she went. Gently blowing cool air cross her lady bits and belly, making Tracer moan softly at the cool air flowing over her wet skin.

"Oh common' love, please" Tracer couldn't help but cry out as she felt Widowmaker nuzzling in between her thighs. Tracer pulled against her restraints longing to tangle her fingers into Widowmaker's hair and push her into her. Unable to she instead dug her heels into the mattress in desperation, making Widowmaker smile.

Widowmaker dug her hands underneath Tracer's ass cheeks and groped her, kneading her flesh and giving in to her pleas, finally tasting her. She ran her tongue up and down, knowing that Tracer can't see her, only feel, and she felt entirely uninhibited to suck at her clit and lick her folds as she pleased.

Tracer was moaning even more, gyrating her hips against Widowmaker's tongue and gasping for breath. She tortured Tracer, a sweet deadly pleasuring kind of torture that made her noisy.

"Please fuck me harder" Tracer squealed as Widowmaker flicked her tongue increasing the pace while she slid her hands between Tracer's legs, spreading them wider and getting her tongue deep inside the moaning girl, tongue fucking her.

Tracer's face was one of pleasure and lust, moaning softly at every touch. Widowmaker disliked that she couldn't see her expressive eyes, but got cold feet about making it any more intimate that it already was.

Widowmaker sunk her fingers into Tracer finding her extremely excited, overly wet and ready. Pumping them in and out she took in how soft and hot the girls pussy felt clenching tightly around her fingers.

"OUCH OUCH OUCH!" Tracer cried and Widowmaker stopped immediately in scare. Tracer's breaths were small hiccups anticipating more pain "nails nails..." she whimpered, hoping to god it was only a mistake by her Mistress, however unlikely.

"I'm sorry Chérie, I don't usually..." Keeping her nails long was not practical for several reasons, time and again she had been told they would cause her trouble in the field. If only they had known what kind of problems she would end up having with them, the look on their faces would be priceless.

Tracer laughed relieved "its okey, maybe no fingers?" It was only a bump in her excitement, she hoped she hadn't killed Widowmaker's mood. She might just have clenched her teeth and dealt with the pain if she knew it would ruin the session.

"I got a fix" Widowmaker grabbed an average sized dildo from the bag and pushed it firmly into Tracer's hot inviting hole. She shuddered delightfully and could only guess what Widowmaker was using on her, she herself never cared for such things. The dildo filled her so much she felt completely full, but Widowmaker was careful, slowly pumping it in and out of her, by now she knew exactly how much Tracer could take.

"Better?" Widowmaker inquired.

"Much better" Tracer moaned.

Widowmaker was surprisingly good at this, touching her just right, swirling her tongue around her clit and simultaneously fucking her with the dildo. Tracer wrapped her feet behind Widowmaker's head trapping her against her pussy, barely leaving room for the dildo Widowmaker is working into her at a rapid pace.

Tracer started to buck and moan uncontrollably, her breaths erratic. "Cum for me Chérie" Widowmaker leaned in and whispered into her ear, bringing Tracer over the edge, making her erupt. Her stomach muscles flexed and heaved as she orgasmed. She spasmed while Widowmaker kissed her and continued massaging her, working the dildo on her, slowly letting up the speed as Tracer came down again.

Her orgasm subsides and Widowmaker withdraws the dildo and her fingers, patting her head and murmuring sweet sounding French into her ear.

It was the best orgasm Tracer had ever had, it was something out of her dreams, just gentler and better. Not having a say in it made it so much more enjoyable, it was definitely her kink now that she had experienced it for real.

Widowmaker leaned over her, admiring Tracer's heaving chest, releasing one of her arms at a time, finally removing the blindfold. Tracer stretched her arms, relieving the tension being bound caused her joints.

Before anything else was done Tracer embraced Widowmaker in a kiss, slowly and sensually. It was a kiss of appreciation rather than a hot and horny kiss she traded earlier, a sweet thanks.

Tracer's sweetness quickly changed as her eyes turned downright predatory, she had a little give for her take. Practically tackling Widowmaker and wrestling her down into the mattress, pressing her body on top of her and forcing a hand down Widowmaker's panties.

Widowmaker laid back in astonishment, breathless and shocked as Tracer gave her a determined smile. She worked her hand against Widowmaker's pussy, pleased and excited to feel her wetness. Tracer kisser her hard, and bit and sucked on her neck and shoulders all the while massaging her clit in quick circles.

Widowmaker had tried pushing her off at first, but her arms felt heavy and limp and just dropped back down on the mattress as she sucked in a shaky breath and let Tracer have it her way. She didn't hate it, it was a delightful feeling having Tracer on top working for her pleasure. She had figured this would be just like her, the hasty and unrestrained way she was going about making love to her. Lena was like that, unrestrained and hasty, clumsy, lively, greedy and very loving. Overall emotional.

But Widowmaker had to remain the boss after all. "Only like that Chérie"

"Really, only like this?" Tracer was surprised she would put a damper on her now.

"Yes." She moaned.

Tracer settled for massaging her thoroughly, she wanted to see her hot pussy up close and taste her, take in her sweet fragrance and fuck her hard. But she knew this was the best deal she could get out of Widowmaker. 'Baby steps' she thought.

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By the end they were both spent and exhausted, Widowmaker probably for another reason than hers. But it wasn't all bad, they laid side by side arms touching and Tracer had entangled one of her hands fingers into Widowmaker's.

Widowmaker had allowed so little it left no room for creativity, Tracer cursed not being able to give her everything she had. She would have made Widowmaker addicted and dependent on her sex if she had the chance. Maybe she was just a tiny bit overconfident on her abilities in bed, but as it stood she was nervous that Widowmaker would think her boring.

Tracer was about to step out of bed, she had to shower, her body felt sticky with wine, strawberry, sweat and other fluids. Now that she thought of it, the entire room reeked of sex "I gotta go take a shower Mistress."

"Tomorrow, its late" Widowmaker grabbed her wrist and forcefully pinned her to the mattress. She looked exhausted and irked, Tracer decided not to argue as she was sure Widowmaker might actually hurt her this time.

Tracer searched Widowmaker's eyes trying to find something else than annoyance. "So... You want to do this again love?" She smiled warily fidgeting with the sheets. This was exactly what she was afraid of, she only found conflict in Widowmaker's eyes. "Maybe."

"Don't you like me?" Tracer felt woozy and her inhibitions were still non-existent.

"Don't." Widowmaker said curtly as she cupped Tracer's cheek in her hand and kissed her softly, before she drew back looking into her nervous hazel eyes. "Lets go out and eat tomorrow, we can talk then. Not now."

Tracer beamed 'a date?' She wouldn't dare saying that out loud, but to her that is exactly the way it sounded. "But why?"

"As a thank you for willingly helping me out tonight" first sign of thankfulness from Widowmaker that made Tracer's heart skip.

Tracer didn't know what to make out of it all, however, soon she would get a chance to talk with her for real. She really wanted her, right now she was happier than she had been in a long time.

Sure she was sticky when she picked up her accelerator and cuddled up to Widowmaker, but the woman didn't seem to care, embracing her and twirling a sheet around them. Tracer's world was spinning and falling asleep had never been sweeter.

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Endnote: Long update times cuz my English sux & school. Takes forever not to make stuff sound retarded, trying the best I can. So sorry people ;(


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